


This You Can Keep

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Multi, Stockholm Syndrome, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Training with Cobb was hard, but she had expected it to be that way. Getting caught by vampires was nothing like what she expected.</p><p>For the inception_kink prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/9742.html?thread=19965198#t19965198">Vampire!AU Ariadne is a newbie vampire hunter Cobb is training. Arthur and/or Eames are vampires.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knowing Truth

Ariadne had to be out of her fucking mind. Revenge was one thing, but this was something completely different.

She was shaking, hardly able to move. No doubt she was covered in fresh bruises, and the older ones hadn't even healed yet. She kept pushing, kept saying she didn't need to pause in the training. She needed to be better, stronger, faster. She needed to be a better fighter. Seriously, though, ibuprofen and salt baths could do only so much.

Ariadne staggered into the loft's tiny kitchenette and poured herself a cup of black coffee. The stuff was vile, but it was cheap and she needed the caffeine. Cobb would be back soon enough, and she needed to get her muscles working again. Vampires wouldn't let her regroup if she was wounded, so she had to find that inner core of strength Cobb kept going on about to continue fighting. She took deep breaths in between gulps of coffee, remembering the smell of blood and sweat and grime. She closed her eyes and saw her parents' bodies on the floor, her little sister's neck gnawed on and a hunk of her shoulder missing. Ariadne's hand shook, even after nearly a year since it had happened, but she made herself move through the memory. She might see worse out there. She might have to do worse, even if vampires weren't human anymore.

Revenge was all she had left, even if it made her feel hollow and numb.

The pounding on the door that heralded Cobb's return occurred during her third cup of coffee. The tremors in her hands had gone away, and she had managed to unkink most of her muscles. He handed her a brown bag with pastries and locked the deadbolt and chain behind him. The pharmacy bag in hand contained aspirin, ibuprofen and some cold medicine as well as bandages and rubbing alcohol. "Feeling any better?" he asked, watching her devour a pastry.

Ariadne shrugged, even though she was tempted to shake her head. "I'll get over it."

"Good attitude," Cobb replied approvingly. "The fuckers will only keep going if you're hurt. They won't stop until you're dead."

There was no need to remind her, but Cobb did that sometimes. He talked and talked in circles, repeating this over and over. Ariadne thought it soothed him somehow, as if teaching her how to fight wasn't enough. He needed to feel useful, needed to feel as though he had a place in the world. She knew that his children were in the States with their grandparents, and that vampires had killed his four wife years ago. He had gone over the deep end trying to fight and kill vampires in revenge, staking out likely crime scenes to mark his targets. He had found Ariadne after her family's deaths, and had been the only one to believe her account. Police thought it was coke heads or assholes high on PCP or some kind of goth gang. They had no imagination and no use for the supernatural, even though Ariadne had clearly seen the fangs of the one that had killed her mother.

The rest of the day was spent in hand to hand combat and weapons training. Ariadne simply grit her teeth against the pain and kept pushing herself back up to her feet every time she fell. She was woozy from lack of decent food and the sugar crash after the morning's pastry, but she had to learn to fight through that, too. Cobb had a mockup of a vampire torso complete with ribs so that she could practice staking them. It was hard to get past the ribs, and hitting one made the force of the blow reverberate up her arm. As tired as she was, she couldn't afford to fight numb.

Afterward, Cobb massaged Ariadne's shoulders. His fingers slid low along the rise of her chest, his breath warm on the back of her neck. Ariadne shivered when his lips pressed against her temple. "You're going to be a wonderful fighter when I'm done training you. It's going to be beautiful to see."

"I'm trying," Ariadne rasped, not sure what to say. His attention was uncomfortable at times, but she needed the training. There weren't many vampire hunters, as no one seemed to acknowledge that they existed. The few she had met through Cobb were complete assholes, condescending because of her petite frame. Cobb believed that it would be an asset, that no vampire would ever think she was a threat simply by looking at her. She hoped so, and was willing to do whatever it took to get the training she needed. If that included fucking Cobb, so be it.

He slid a hand down further to cup a breast and rolled her nipple between his fingers. He was always touching her, his narrow-eyed gaze following her everywhere. He got jealous when other hunters saw her, didn't like it when she left the loft. "I won't lose you," he murmured, his lips sliding down to touch the corner of her jaw. His other hand was along her side beneath her shirt, gently gliding across the skin covering her ribs. They were all bruised, but at least they weren't cracked. Even Cobb would suspend training then. "I won't lose anyone ever again."

Ariadne didn't pretend to be Mal, and Cobb seemed to be all right with that. Finding her crumpled body beneath the window of his home seemed to break something in him, and he was driven in ways that were almost uncomfortable. Nothing mattered but killing vampires, in taking down as many as he could before death claimed him. Ariadne knew that she was just a warm body in his bed, a distraction and stress release for that pent up energy. That was fine; he was considerate of her needs even if he didn't love her, and she needed something more than pain from this arrangement.

She pulled off her shirt without preamble and turned to kiss Cobb on the mouth. He palmed her breasts roughly and then pulled at her nipples almost painfully. Ariadne broke the kiss to make a hissing noise, but Cobb leaned forward to kiss her again. "Bedroom," she said, nodding toward her bedroom. "Condoms are in the bedside drawer."

He helped her to feet. "You stocked up again?"

"I can't fight if I get pregnant," she replied tartly. He nodded, and they tumbled toward her bed. Clothes were stripped or shoved out of the way, Ariadne got down to all fours on the bed and Cobb grasped her hips to slide in from behind. He moved at a rapid, punishing pace that made Ariadne howl in pleasure and grasp the coverlet in shaking fists. It was easier this way; Cobb could close his eyes and think of Mal when he moved inside her, and Ariadne could press her face into the bed and simply drown in sensation. Ariadne clenched down hard around his cock as she came, muffling herself with the coverlet. He kept going, fingers digging into her hips, and fuck but he felt good deep inside her. She came again, nearly shrieking, and this time she was able to drag him along with her. She could feel his cock jerk inside her, could feel the erratic clutching of his fingers against her.

Ariadne lay sprawled across the bed as Cobb withdrew and went to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. Just as well he didn't like hanging around after. She didn't want to pretend that it was anything more than tension release. There was affection, maybe, but there certainly wasn't love. Each of them tried to fill the holes in the other, but it was incomplete and left other holes behind.

She felt nothing as he came back into her bedroom to put his clothes back on. "That should be enough training for today. Need anything, or can I just head out?"

God, she felt so used and empty hearing that. "I'm fine. When are you supposed to talk to Yusuf about that rumor you heard?"

"I talked to him last night," Cobb said, pulling his shirt on. He was busy buttoning it up and missed the look of hurt that flashed across her face. "It didn't pan out. There was nothing in the vineyard at all. So if there _is_ a vineyard being used by vampires, it might be farther away than we thought. Or the fucker is just better at covering his tracks than we thought."

"We," Ariadne said flatly, pushing herself up off the bed. She didn't care if she was stark naked. Jaw jutting out in anger, she poked Cobb straight in the chest. "What's the 'we' business if you don't get me out there helping you? I can chase down leads if you introduce me to the friends you've got. Some of the hunters out there don't like you, and might not be willing to talk to you. Cobol, for one."

Cobb flushed in anger. "That asshole has nothing to do with this."

"Of course not. But you go see Yusuf without me? What the fuck is that all about? Are we partners or what?"

"I told you I won't lose you," Cobb replied, expression shuttered. "I think Yusuf's dealing with the other side."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked irritably.

"I mean, his information might be _too_ accurate because he's helping out a rogue or two." He glared at Ariadne. "You like him, and you wouldn't have been able to weigh what he said with that in mind."

"So you just cut me out entirely?"

"Ariadne..."

"Just get out." She pointed in the general direction of her front door. "Just... I can't even talk to you right now, Cobb. Just get the hell out of my goddamn apartment before I take a stake to your fucking head."

He gave her a faint smile. "I'll bet you never would've been able to do that a year ago."

Something cold and hard shriveled inside her chest at even a casual mention of her family's murder by vampires. Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Get. Out."

Cobb nodded, the smile sliding off of his face. "There's a meeting with Cobol and Nash in two weeks. Nash should be back from Spain by then."

It was a peace offering, one that Ariadne was grateful for. It had been eight months of hard training, ten since the murders. This was the first time he had told her about a hunters' meeting before it happened. "I'll be there. Maybe I'll even be speaking to you by then."

"Yeah. I'll be back tomorrow for training."

Ariadne kicked her bedroom door shut after she heard the front door slam shut when he left. If she hadn't asked about Yusuf, she wouldn't have even heard about the meeting with Cobol and Nash. It was time she faced facts. Cobb wasn't going to actually let her into the field, and he certainly didn't want to expose her to actual risk. He might think she could fight, but deep down he ultimately believed it was his job to protect her from everything. Going as far as withholding information from her, however, was more than she was willing to take. Cobb didn't know it, but she had Yusuf's cell phone number. She didn't believe for a minute that he was working with vampires willingly, if he was doing it at all. Cobb probably thought she was stupid, or simply didn't pay attention to what people said around her. They all thought she was young and naive. Maybe she was about some things, but she knew what made people tick. Yusuf was one of the good guys, and Ariadne knew she could count on him in a pinch.

 _can i meet u? shop talk, sry!_ she texted him. He replied in the affirmative as she got dressed, and gave the name of a restaurant where he was planning to go to for dinner anyway. Ariadne smiled. It was time for dinner and she was definitely hungry.

***

Yusuf waved Ariadne over to the corner booth where he was sitting. She unwound the scarf from her throat and took off her jacket to hang them up on the hook beside the booth. "Hey, I got your text," he said with a smile and a shrug. "What can I help you with?"

Ariadne drummed her fingers on the tabletop. It was a hunter's bar, and shop talk was a given around here. Even so, she didn't like going behind Cobb's back. "I've been cut out of the loop. I don't know how long," she admitted after a moment. Yusuf nodded and made sympathetic noises. "What? You knew?"

"I can guess, Ariadne. I hadn't seen you in a month and Cobb's talking about the good of the team and all that kind of rot." He waved over a waiter. "Grab her a pint and bring over some potato skins."

"I already know what I want. I'll have a bacon cheeseburger."

"Heathen," Yusuf said with a smile. "Fish and chips for me, please."

"The potato skins have bacon on them, you know."

"I can pick off the filthy things," he said in response to her teasing. "Or I can order something really French, just to go with the locale."

"Odds are, you probably couldn't eat that, either."

Yusuf laughed. "True. But you'd be surprised, even in a backwater place like this." They both quieted as the waiter returned with their beers. "And, well, I don't keep to the rules regarding alcohol, you see. But some are rather important, I think."

Ariadne smiled around her beer. "Such as?"

"I honor the one true God, and serve the interests of Allah whenever and however I can. I don't serve any other forces."

She put down her beer slowly. "So you know what people say about you."

"Of course I do. I'm not stupid." He gave Ariadne a level look. "Cobb cares about vengeance, and that is _it._ I don't have the same drive for it that he does, and therefore I must be working with the undead." Yusuf rolled his eyes. "They're _undead._ Therefore, not likely to need custom made pharmaceuticals." He swirled his beer in the glass thoughtfully. "Though there are rumors, of course."

"About you?"

He shot her an annoyed look. "I mean about _them._ That perhaps not all of what we know is true. They don't all nest, they don't all have an aversion to silver. Stakes and fires and sunlight are all true, and the movie trick with mirrors isn't. The fog thing isn't, the bat thing isn't, the mind control and strength and speed certainly are true. Listen, I've put together a damn fine fake blood, but it's not for their sustenance. It's as part of a trap, to draw them in. _That's_ what I've done. And I've made things to enhance a hunter's speed or agility or sharpness of mind. Sure, I've done these things. It's safer that one of those fools out there takes my shit than something off the street that's been cut with talc and will rip their hearts to shreds." He took in Ariadne's wry expression. "I've had a _lot_ of training, Ariadne. I'd hate for people to die just because they're being stupid."

"Isn't that Darwinism at work?"

"Yeah. But Darwinism at work also says that vampires can hunt us down and kill us all." He nodded at her sober expression. "If I can level the playing field, I will. That's all."

Ariadne nodded and took another long pull of her beer. "I wasn't questioning your loyalty to humanity," she said quietly.

"I suppose I'm a little off because of the meeting with Cobb."

"He can do that to anybody."

Yusuf snorted. "This is very true, my friend." He shook his head. "We all get drawn to this life because of pain or suffering. If we had our way, how many of us would want our loved ones back and pretend this all never happened?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Probably everybody in this bar."

"And in every other hunter's bar across the world."

They paused as the food arrived and they each tucked in heartily. "Cobb's obsessed with a pair of vampires that have come across the countryside a few times. They keep a low profile, don't stir up a lot of trouble, and leave after a while. I haven't found anything to pinpoint where they lie during the day. That's the truth."

"I believe you."

"That doesn't mean they're not out there, and it doesn't mean they're not hunting people. And it certainly doesn't mean that I'm allied with the bastards."

"I believe you," she repeated, with a slight emphasis. "I never thought you'd turn on people."

Yusuf smiled at her. "You're one of the few, Ariadne. I fear I may move on from this place sooner than I thought."

"Where would you go?"

"Mombassa has too many memories, but it's still home to me. That's always a possibility."

Ariadne impulsively reached forward to grasp Yusuf's hand. "Whatever you decide, good luck. You've been a good friend these last few months. I almost lost my mind."

Yusuf snickered. "What makes you think you haven't?"

She retracted her hand and resisted the urge to toss a French fry at him. "Did I say you were my friend? I might have been mistaken."

They both laughed, and the conversation turned to other things for the rest of the evening.

***

Armed with stakes, holy water and silver chains, Ariadne took off for the French countryside when Cobb called to cancel their training session. If he could go off and talk with other hunters, she could do her goddamn job and actually hunt vampires. She didn't do damsel in distress all that well anymore.

The countryside was beautiful, and she had wonderfully calming music playing on her headphones. She had odd things secreted on her person and in her bag, but no one would really have reason to pat her down in the middle of the day. She thought of the things that Yusuf had said the night before, and all the things he didn't say. Staying in France was probably a mistake, but she didn't have contacts anywhere else at the moment. American hunters were testy as all fuck; they insisted there was a master vampire of sorts, some kind of figure that controlled most of the other collected vampires. They didn't like it when European hunters called them dramatic pussies looking for an excuse why the midwest and the coasts were crawling with vampires. Ariadne personally thought it was the fact that there were too many large cities there. New York City had been a fun place to visit, and bars closed at four am. Vampires could blend right in, and there were at least eleven million people in Manhattan alone. Add to that the drugs and prostitution and homeless, and vampires could lie low and still eat their fill if they were careful. Chicago and St. Louis seemed to be the hot spots in the American midwest, though there were more stories about the night life there. Ariadne had simply filed it all away; if she ever left France for the US (which was doubtful, but she could blend in there) she would simply move to a small town and avoid big cities.

There wasn't much to do in the country. There were parks and hiking and the occasional point of attraction. For the most part, it was open fields, vineyards and little villages clustered around a main street with shopping and town administration. Vampires couldn't hide in a place like that for long. Sooner or later they got sloppy.

She saw the vineyard that had to be the one Yusuf had visited. She drove past it, agreeing that it looked as though it really was abandoned. The acreage around the house was run down and overgrown, the house dilapidated in places. Maybe it would be a good hiding place if it was more structurally sound; the house looked as though it was about to cave in on itself.

There was another vineyard a few more miles down the road. That house looked like a better possibility, and she threw her car into park partway up the drive. It was overgrown in spots but not so terribly shabby that it was falling apart. It was possible that this was a vampire's den, so she would have to be careful. Stories said that they were helpless during the day, paralyzed by the heat of the sun. But even if they were weak, it could be like reptilian weakness at night - sluggish, but not truly helpless. Ariadne couldn't afford to be careless just because it was approaching noon.

She kept a stake hidden in her sleeve as she left the car and started walking up the drive. There was a barn of sorts; once this had been a hobby farm as well as a vineyard. The barn door was partway off its hinges, so it would be easy enough to slide inside and see what was lying around in the half dark. It wasn't a likely location for a vampire to sleep in, but it was still worth a check.

Ariadne crept through the hole made by the broken barn door, giving herself a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Moldy hay was up in the hayloft, and the stalls were mostly empty. It stank of animal refuse, and she could see odd shaped lumps in the dirt and straw left on the ground. She approached cautiously, mindful of Cobb's lessons. He was an asshole half of the time, but he was right about always being on her guard. It wouldn't do to fuck up and become vampire food.

Most of the lumps were simply stray animals resting out of the sun's heat. There was the carcass of a calf in the corner, desiccated and covered in flies. There was no way to tell how it died, but something twisted in her gut. The calf's leg was broken, and its neck was twisted at an odd angle. It was highly unlikely that this was an accident, and any human squatters would have taken the carcass apart for the meat. Ariadne left the barn and looked out toward the vineyard fields. They were overgrown and heavy with grapes, with no indication that anyone was really eating them or using them to make wine. She didn't know much about vineyards, other than they normally took a lot of work to run, but figured that this meant the former owners couldn't have been gone long. The presence of the calf made her assume that they were dead, though she hadn't been in the house yet.

Honestly, she was starting to wonder if she should really go inside alone.

Steeling herself, Ariadne pushed the back door open, listening to the hinges squeak crazily. Nothing seemed to stir inside the house, and it was dusty. Crusted dishes were in the sink, and there was the hum of appliances in the kitchen. She opened the fridge, but it was empty except for a jar of pickles and a container of mustard. That didn't mean anything, but she still felt unsettled. She moved slowly from room to room, footsteps light and stake at the ready, just in case. She should have brought a gun. Cobb made her buy and train with one, but she didn't feel right using it. It reminded her too much of her father and all the memories she had of him cleaning out his service weapon on the kitchen table on Sunday mornings after church. He had brought the Army discipline home from the base, for all the good it had done the family.

 _God, that's enough of being morbid,_ she told herself sternly, heading for the stairs. The first floor of the house was dusty and empty, still full of items that made it look lived in. At least, it had been lived in up until several months ago. She took the stairs slowly and quietly, and scanned the second floor. Nothing. She saw the stairs up to the attic, though what would the yield on that be? It was the highest up from the ground and would have sun exposure. Vampires wouldn't use an attic. They were more likely to use the basement, but she was frankly creeped out enough that she didn't want to scan the basement alone.

Some hunter she made.

Ariadne leaned against the bay window in one of the abandoned bedrooms. It was pretty, and had once belonged to a teenage girl. She pressed the button to speed dial Cobb and waited impatiently for him to pick up. "I took a drive," she said without preamble, cutting off his annoyed "What are you calling me right now for?" before he could get into it. "I think there might be one around, if not still here."

"Are you crazy? You went out _alone?"_

"What makes you think I'm alone?"

"No one else in their right mind will go on a hunt with you!" Cobb said, practically yelling.

A cold fist closed itself around her heart. "You told them not to go hunting with me, didn't you?"

"You're not ready..."

"Oh, fuck you," Ariadne snapped. "Goddammit, Cobb, I'm not a baby. That's why I'm calling you rather than just running into the basement where they're more likely to be." She could practically see the shock on his face at that pronouncement. She quickly rattled off the directions to the vineyard. "Did you just miss this one, then?"

"Nash was going to go check it out with me in two weeks," Cobb reluctantly admitted.

"You're such an asshole," she hissed, feeling like throwing her phone across the room. "Am I ready for hunting or not?"

"Look, Ariadne..."

"No, _you_ look. Either I'm ready or not. I'm tired of the bullshit runaround you've been giving me. Let me hunt, or I'm packing my shit and leaving for somewhere I can."

There was tense silence for several minutes, but Ariadne could wait it out. Finally, Cobb sighed. "All right. All right, I'll check out this house with you. It's likely where they sleep during the day, so it's dangerous."

"They?"

"We've been thinking there's two or three in the nest."

Ariadne's heart sank, and her eyes strayed to the doorway of the bedroom. "Two or three," she echoed dumbly. Oh, she was so glad she hadn't checked the basement on her own yet.

"Look. Can we put off the search a bit? I need to get new shotgun shells. And if they know you've been around, they're more likely to abandon the nest."

She let her eyes slide shut as she sighed. "Goddammit..."

"Just until next week," Cobb said hastily. "You know, when you start bleeding. You'd be better bait then, and draw them out of hiding because of the smell of blood."

"You're such a bastard," she said without heat. "Fine. Next week, then."

"Thank you. We'll stock up on supplies, all right? They're most likely there, and I'll let Cobol keep an eye on the place to be sure they don't up and leave."

"He's more likely to sneak a kill underneath your nose."

"He's ruthless, but he's not stupid. He won't take on a nest alone."

 _Unlike me?_ she almost wanted to ask, but she was too tired to deal with the argument that would start. "Fine. I'll head back home."

"Thank you, Ariadne," Cobb said, relief evident in his voice.

"I'll see you tonight for practice," she replied, voice hard and even. "Don't stand me up."

She hung up and got the hell out of the house. It was creepy and she felt like she was being watched as she pulled out of the driveway. It made no sense, probably Cobb's warnings catching up with her. She only felt safe out under the open sun and with miles stretching out between herself and the run down vineyard.

***  
***


	2. Entering The Nightmare

Likely in retaliation for going off without him, Cobb pushed Ariadne even harder over the next week. He put new bruises over her old ones, and laid her flat on her back with nasty roundhouse kicks to the head that she didn't quite block in time. She'd never seen him this angry at her before, but she hadn't gone over his head like this before. She didn't doubt that he was imagining finding her dead and bloodied, throat torn out the way Mal's had been. She hated that he still compared her to his dead wife, even when he seemed to fuck her into submission. It was angry sex now, something that left her feeling even more empty and used than before, and after two times she put a stop to that. He didn't understand it, but he didn't have to. He never understood why she had been so angry with him before anyway.

It was late afternoon when they set off for the vineyard. Cobb had made excuses all morning, but had finally relented when Ariadne started packing up her car with whatever gear she had. Seeing her set expression, he went along with her and took out the duffel bag of weapons from his trunk to put into hers. He didn't speak to her the entire drive, and they arrived there in silence. "I checked everything but the basement last time."

"We should do a quick sweep, just to be sure they haven't moved."

If anything, the calf carcass was gone from the barn and the kitchen was clean. The drawing room was still messy, but the bedrooms looked as though they had been dusted. "Someone lives here now," Ariadne had hissed to Cobb. "Or they're making it look like someone does."

He looked at her grimly. He knew she wasn't stupid and she wouldn't have lied to him over the phone. "So they knew you were looking. Come on. They'd be in a stupor by now. Let's check out the basement and get this over with."

The basement door was well oiled and opened without any noise. The stairs likewise were stable and didn't make noise as they went down. Ariadne went down first, flashlight held in her left hand, crossed over her right for better vision. Cobb hadn't wanted to turn on the lights and warn them, but as far as Ariadne was concerned, the smell of blood between her thighs was warning enough. She was carrying a gun that held silver coated bullets in her right hand, and she had stakes strapped to her forearms and a silver-plated knife in her boot. She had a backpack on with more ammo and stakes, just in case, but she knew that she had to have things ready for the element of surprise. Vampires were fast, lethal and merciless.

The basement was unfinished and had rough hewn stone walls. There were various doors leading out from the main open area, and they decided to check them one by one. The first was the boiler room, with hot water heater and various meters for all of the utilities. There were a few boxes labeled Noël or Pasques scattered in it, looking as though it hadn't been touched in some time. The next door held canned vegetables and fruits as well as other unlabeled jars. It was chilly there, Ariadne's breath coming in little puffs. The next room was more storage, this time for large barrels of what must have been wine. Ariadne saw them, and had thought that the wine made here would be stored in a different location than a large basement room of a ramshackle house. Maybe that kept thieves away, but she didn't think it was ordinary practice.

There was only one door left, and Ariadne led the way. "Do you think they cleared out?" she asked in hushed tones as she opened the door.

Cobb opened his mouth to speak, but it turned into a shout of alarm as shadowy figures rushed out of the room at them. Ariadne fired without thinking, nailing the figure in front of her with four silver bullets and the one behind it with three. There were hisses of pain, and their movements were slower than before. It didn't stop them, and Ariadne was suddenly very afraid that the belief about silver poisoning vampires was wrong. She moved quickly as Cobb fired his own weapon, swapping out the spent magazine for a new one and sliding out one of the stakes from her arm. Both of the figures were advancing on Cobb, who kept firing and kept his stance. Flashlight rolling on the ground, Ariadne moved in with the stake for one of them, but he was much taller than she was. Her stake slid in between ribs, but her blow was too low and missed the heart. He stumbled slightly, flailing. It caught her across the face, and she went flying into the stone wall.

"Ariadne!" Cobb shouted, starting to advance with his gun in his right hand and stake in his left.

The room swam as she pushed herself to her feet. Fuck. The last thing she needed was a concussion. She took out her gun and fired at the figure behind Cobb, pushing him back a little. That vampire hissed in pain, but still reached out to grab Cobb by the arm as he raised it to stake the one on the floor that Ariadne had gotten.

"No!" Ariadne cried, teeth bared in anger. She fired, hitting the vampire in the forehead, snapping his head back. He bared his fangs at her, dark eyes flashing. His dark hair was mussed, and the clothing was dark, so it was impossible to see more than his pale face and long fangs. He wasn't the one that had killed her family, but this was still bad enough.

He sank his teeth into Cobb's throat and started to drink deeply.

Ariadne knew she was screaming in protest, though she couldn't get a clean enough shot at the vampire without possibly hitting Cobb. Her hands were shaking, and she was swaying slightly on her feet. It was worse when the vampire on the floor grasped Cobb's leg and sank his teeth in. Cobb was screaming at her to shoot, goddammit, just shoot the fucking gun and get it over with. His flails were getting weaker, and if anything his skin seemed to take on an ashen cast.

 _I'm sorry,_ she thought, not sure if she said it aloud. She fired, the first two shots going wide. The third went through Cobb's throat and buried itself in the vampire's head, shattering his cheekbone. He backed off, and the one on the floor let go of Cobb. Ariadne turned and ran toward the stairs, to the safety of the brilliantly lit kitchen.

The one that had bitten Cobb's neck grabbed her and pulled her down the stairs when she was halfway up and nearly beginning to hope she'd survive. The shattered cheek was already repaired, and his eyes flared in the half light from the fallen flashlight. The one that had been on the floor had blue eyes and lighter colored hair. He got up and pulled the stake out of his back. Ariadne's breath seized in her chest at the sight of it. She had _failed,_ and she was about to die, and Cobb had been absolutely right that she wasn't ready for a hunt.

The blond licked his own blood off of the stake. "That hurt, poppet," he said with an English accent, fangs bared at her.

"I can ignore the bullets," the dark haired one said, spinning her around so that her arm was twisted up behind her back and trapped between her body and his chest. It felt like stone, and struggling didn't loosen his grip at all. If anything, he chuckled, his voice dark and sinister. "They sting, of course, but you took our meal away. You do realize how difficult it is to find good food about these parts?"

The English accented blonde laughed and advanced on the struggling Ariadne. "But then again, you smell absolutely _delicious."_

Oh dear god, she was going to die.

The two lunged at the same time, taking opposite sides of her neck. The fangs sinking past her skin caused her to cry out. It was a stinging, like razor blades drawn across her skin. After a moment it stopped hurting, almost as if an anesthetic had been injected beneath her skin. Ariadne struggled to breathe, pressed between the both of them, and she could feel her knees give out. The brunet at her back released her first, licking the wound in her neck shut. With some difficulty, the blond in front of her followed suit. Ariadne felt chilled and tired, dizzy and weak. She was like a rag doll between them, and the sight of them licking her blood off of their teeth was too much to bear.

"Oh, no you don't," the brunet hissed, spinning her around.

The blond held her up, his lips against the side of her neck. He inhaled deeply as the brunet smiled at her. "You're right. We should keep her." The blond dragged his teeth across the skin of her neck, making her shiver. "Fuck, Arthur," the blond growled against her neck. "We haven't had a pet in _ages."_

Arthur smiled, fangs elongated. "I want to taste that blood you've been teasing us with."

Ariadne shivered, and she could feel the blond behind her drag the edge of his fang along the skin of her neck. He shifted position so that he was slowly sinking to the floor, dragging Ariadne with him. She kicked out at Arthur as she lost her balance, but the grin on his face was chilling. He easily pulled off her boots, undid her jeans and dragged everything down her legs. He laughed at her incoherent pleas to leave her alone, and pried her legs apart. He bent his head to the juncture of her thighs and began to delicately lap at the blood left there. Ariadne let out a shaky breath. "Please stop," she whimpered, pulling at her arms. She was locked tight against the English vampire's chest, his fangs rubbing against the skin of her neck.

Arthur tilted her hips up for better access, and he kept her legs firmly apart. He traced the skin where her thighs met her mound with the tip of his tongue, then he slowly explored the folds and licked up the traces of blood. He took his time with her, going excruciatingly slowly. He tongued her clit at irregular intervals, then slid his tongue along her slit. Ariadne whimpered softly at the contact, lips trembling. He delved deep inside of her, tongue curling up and tracing the edge of her entrance. He released one hip to hook her knee behind his shoulder. She tried to kick it off, her efforts weak. Arthur merely closed his lips over her clit and slid two fingers inside of her. She arched her back in response, making a soft noise of pleasure. The English vampire chuckled, and shifted his grip on her arms. With one hand he held her wrists above her head, and the other snaked across her torso. He firmly held her against his kneeling body, and his hand closed over her breast beneath her sweater. He abraded her nipple through her bra, pressing his soft lips against the skin of her neck.

Ariadne gasped as Arthur curled his fingers inside of her and sucked harder. She could feel herself clench down tight around his fingers, approaching an orgasm she felt ashamed for even feeling. She closed her eyes against the sight of his dark head between her legs and stifled a sob that threatened to form. He coaxed the orgasm out of her, and the blond simply held her in place as she shook in his arms. He closed his lips around her earlobe, murmuring things she wasn't entirely conscious of. They were probably wanton and dirty; she could feel an erection pressed against the small of her back.

She hadn't thought vampires were capable of sex, much less wanting it in the human way. The rumors all said that the drinking of blood was like sex for them, that it replaced all other forms of pleasure. Obviously, someone had gotten it wrong, and the stories were such bullshit.

Lips still around her clit, Arthur kept sliding his fingers in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Ariadne felt as if her bones were melting and her body was on fire. Her breath came in short pants, and she was twisting in the blond's embrace. His fingers pulled at her breast, and the fingers of his other hand trailed along the skin of her wrists. It was a sensual assault on her body, and Ariadne could only writhe and moan in response to their attentions. Arthur sucked harder, making her cry out at the feel of it.

"Look at him, poppet," the blond growled in her ear. _"Look."_

Almost against her will, she opened her eyes and shifted her head to look at Arthur. His eyes were dark, all black, and he licked the blood from his fingers after withdrawing them from her. "Your taste is exquisite," he growled, bending his head down again.

Ariadne gasped as his tongue slid down her swollen clit to lick at her folds again. The blond pulled at her breast a little harder, making her gasp. Ariadne mewled as Arthur thrust his tongue back inside of her, his hand moving across her lower belly so that his slick fingers could slide across her clit. She tried to twist and writhe in the blond's arms, and he let go of her wrists. Her arms fell to the side, her head lolling back on his shoulder. He slid both hands beneath her sweater and lifted her breasts out of her bra to fondle them. He licked the side of her throat almost delicately, lips gentle against her skin. Ariadne panted, feeling her entire body tighten, her fingers skittering across the rough stone floor.

Just as she came again, the blond slid his fingers into her mouth and bit her neck. Ariadne tasted blood on his fingers, and somehow she knew it wasn't her own. Even though she choked and tried to spit it out, some of his blood slid down her throat. He drank deeply for a few seconds, making her dizzy, then he licked the wound shut. She slid bonelessly from his grasp to the floor when he moved out from behind her. "I wanna fuck her," he growled at Arthur, who was sitting back on his haunches and licking his lips.

"Eames..."

Eames cradled Arthur's face in his hands. "Darling, there's plenty of time to play, isn't there?"

With a sigh, Arthur nodded and shifted position so that he was kneeling by her shoulders. Ariadne's hands moved spastically as she tried to pull herself away from him with a soft frightened sound deep in her throat. He grasped her shoulder almost gently as Eames divested himself of his trousers. Eames grasped Ariadne's hips and slid into her, making her arch her back and moan softly. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did.

Arthur leaned down as he shifted his grip to take hold of her jaw. He looked down at her; her cheeks were flushed and there was a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, but otherwise she was ghostly pale. "I can make you do all sorts of things," he said with a smile. "But it's much more fun if you play along with us."

Ariadne made a choking sound as Eames thrust into her, eyes fluttering shut. She could hear the rasp of a zipper near her head, and she made a soft whimpering sound. Eames made a particularly wicked thrust, making her gasp, and she could feel something brush across her lower lip. She opened her eyes and stared straight up into Arthur's. He was kneeling beside her, erect cock teasingly brushing against her mouth. Her heart pounded, and she wondered if he had horrible things planned for her if she refused. "But..."

His smile was predatory. "Make it nice for me, and we'll continue to make it nice for you."

Reluctantly, Ariadne opened her mouth wide for him. Other than the fact that she _knew_ he was undead, it felt the same. She ran her tongue down the length of him and curled her arm around to grasp his hip. He gave an amused chuckle and shifted his position over her so that it was easier for her to maneuver. He sighed a little when she ran the tip of her tongue along the slit, then down his length again. "So bloody beautiful, that," Eames growled from between her legs. His hands were over her hips, keeping them tilted up over his kneeling thighs. He moved at a steady rhythm, and she could feel herself tighten around him. "Oh, that's it, love," he groaned. Ariadne sucked hard on Arthur, and his soft sigh turned into a definite moan. "That's it, love," Eames continued to moan, moving faster inside of her. "Just like that." He finally let out a louder groan and stilled, hands tight enough on her hips to add more bruises to the collection.

Ariadne hadn't been paying attention to Arthur's moans or how he was shifting his hips against her mouth. It startled her when he came, and all she could taste was blood. Choking slightly, she knew she swallowed most of it. She couldn't even move, and she could feel Eames lapping at her, tongue and lips gentle against her oversensitized flesh. She hadn't come from him inside her, but his tongue and lips over clit made her cry out and spasm beneath his mouth.

Both vampires smiled down at her indulgently as she lay on the floor. "Well, now, I'm glad we stayed in the area," Arthur murmured, running his fingers through her hair almost tenderly.

"We've things to do," Eames began, pulling his pants back up. He took the stairs two at a time, a grin on his face. "Oh, look. The sun's down. Party time."

Arthur snorted as he hefted Cobb's body over his shoulder. Ariadne curled tightly in on herself, almost to a fetal position. "We'll be back," he said with a sincere smile. "Just off to take out the trash and get a few things. Don't go anywhere."

The click of the lock to the basement door sounded like a gunshot.

***

Ariadne slept. She didn't realize she had slept on the rough flooring until the door to the basement banged into the wall, waking her up. Groggy, she pulled herself up to a standing position using the irregular spots in the walls as a hand grip. Bent over and dizzy, she warily watched as Arthur approached with heavy shopping bags. Her heart beat erratically in her chest and she was breathing heavily and deeply. He gave her a smile, as if this was an every day occurrence. For all she knew, it was.

"Hello, Ariadne," he said, depositing the bags on the floor near her. She skittered backward as best as she could, though her feet kept trying to collapse beneath her. Arthur reached out to touch her cheek, and he grasped her by the front of her sweater. Ariadne tried to push his arms away, but her knees buckled and she all but fell out of her sweater onto the floor. She wrapped her arms around her middle for warmth, dressed only in her bra. "Are you _trying_ to tempt me?" he asked, amused.

"G-get away from me," she said, lips shaking.

"Oh, don't be that way. You must be thirsty as all hell." He squatted in front of her after tossing her sweater aside. "Look. Gatorade and water, all sorts of stuff to get the fluids back up." He reached into the smaller bag and shook a few bottles of pills at her. "Multivitamins, extra B complex stuff and iron. Everything a girl would need to create more blood cells."

Ariadne moved backward, feeling the smear of blood on her thighs and wanting to cry. His eyes were completely black, and she could see his fangs as he smiled at her. "What are you going to do to me?"

Arthur moved forward, looking almost feline in his movements. He was a predator, she had to remember. He could simply tear out her throat if he wanted to, and just thinking that made her flash back to her parents' and sister's deaths. He grasped her jaw in one hand and tilted up her face to meet his gaze. "We're going to have fun, aren't we, little one?" He ran a fang over his bottom lip. "You just dropped yourself into our home like a gift. Did you really think that we'd ignore you?" He continued to smile when she couldn't answer him. "Just so you don't feel bad, I'll even let you in on a little secret. If it had been just one of us here tonight, the two of you might've gotten away with it. The two of you against the two of us, though? You never stood a chance."

She didn't even have fluids enough to shed tears. Her chest burned as she struggled to breathe, and she was sure that Arthur could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Stupid fucking hypovolemia. Her hands shook around her sides, and the only thing keeping her steady was his hand holding her face.

"I want that blood," he continued in an easy tone. "It won't hurt you, won't even deplete you further. Aren't I thoughtful?"

She could only shiver in response.

Arthur leaned forward and ran his hand along the back of her neck. He ran his lips along the outside of her ear. "We're not interested in killing you tonight, Ariadne. Don't be afraid of that."

"Then what should I be afraid of?" she asked in a soft voice that thankfully didn't waver at all.

"Liking it too much," Arthur replied with a smile against her neck. "Believe it or not, pets like being kept."

Dizzy, Ariadne let her eyes fall shut as he tipped her onto her back after releasing the clasp to her bra. Naked beneath him, she could barely keep herself from shivering. Arthur's mouth slid over the rise of her breasts and between them. His fingers ghosted over her stomach, then slid between her thighs to part them. Arthur dipped his tongue into her navel as he moved lower down her body, and Ariadne wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering. Arthur licked at the drying, tacky blood on her skin, making soft appreciative noises. His fingers moved restlessly over the backs of her thighs, as if he wanted to touch her everywhere at once. Ariadne kept her eyes shut and bit her lip to keep from crying out in fear and surprise at how gentle he was being.

"You started without me," came Eames' voice from the stairwell.

Arthur leaned back and sat on his haunches. Ariadne felt chilled at the loss of his tongue and touch, and she cracked her eyes open. "I take it your errand is done."

"Wasn't much to bring back, actually." He was down at the foot of the stairs in an instant. "Pity. I'd've liked playing dress up with her."

Arthur snorted and rose to his feet. "As if that stopped you before."

Eames laughed and came to kneel between Ariadne's spread legs as Arthur had just done. "You smell fantastic." He slid a hand over her lower belly and watched her shiver. "You even left some for me, Arthur. How nice of you."

He shrugged and went to sit beside Ariadne, more or less in line with her shoulders. He leaned down to play with her hair as Eames bent his head to lick off the remaining blood. "You should drink something, Ariadne. You're cold and hypovolemic."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he cared, but she already knew why. The feel of Eames beginning to slide his tongue around her folds made her gasp and shift her thighs restlessly on either side of his head. Arthur had an impassive expression on his face, and he kept stroking her head as if he was petting a dog. "That's it," he murmured softly, barely loud enough for Ariadne to hear over the pounding of her heart. "Let go."

"You can't—"

Arthur bent down and took a breast into his mouth, beginning to suck gently on her. Ariadne unwound her arms from her middle with a gasp, but there weren't too many places she could put her arms. Almost hesitantly she rested one along his shoulders, threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. She could feel Arthur smile around her breast, and before she could say anything else, Eames tilted her hips up higher with his hands and plunged his tongue inside her. Ariadne made a soft whimpering noise as he moved his tongue, his nose rubbing against her clit with even strokes. With both of them working at her, it wasn't long until she came, thighs trembling and fingers tight around the back of Arthur's neck. She nearly sobbed as Eames continued to lick at her with contented growling sounds. Abruptly, Arthur let go of her breast and seized her mouth in a kiss, his tongue sliding into her open mouth. He teased her tongue with his, his fingers moving to flick at her nipple lightly. Ariadne made a desperate keening sound deep in her throat as she approached another orgasm, and she arched up slightly when she did.

Eames leaned back after that and licked the front of his teeth with a smile. "I never did understand why some blokes were so fussy about this." He grinned down at Ariadne as Arthur ended his kiss and leaned back slightly. He ran a hand along the inside of her thigh. "But then, I liked a lot of things back when I was mortal."

"Don't bore the poor girl. She needs to drink fluids."

Eames laughed. "Of course you brought all the ordinary things. Sensible, you are." He shifted to hover over Ariadne's sprawled form. "You need a drink. A proper drink. We're in a bloody vineyard, for crying out loud. You need some wine. Care for red?"

Ariadne could only blink up at him in confusion. "What?"

"Of course she does," Arthur said smoothly. "There's a good vintage in the storage room."

Eames got up and went into the storage room. "I believe there were some glasses somewhere down here."

"The set upstairs is godawful," Arthur said, pulling Ariadne into his arms. He cradled her as she shivered. "Get her a blanket, will you? She's freezing."

"Let's go upstairs, then," Eames said, returning with a bottle. He waggled it playfully in front of Ariadne. "There's a good hour left before sunup."

Arthur carried her upstairs and found a throw blanket from the living to wrap her up in. The room slid sideways as she sat at the kitchen table across from them, and all she could think was _What the fuck am I doing?_ as she watched Eames pop the cork. Arthur busied himself getting glasses, and set three of them on the counter in front of Eames. Ariadne shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. She missed the two vampires spiking her glass of wine with their blood, a knowing wink passing between them. Arthur brought her glass in front of her. "Drink up."

They watched her pick up the glass with shaking fingers and drink slowly. She was thirsty, but figured drinking quickly would simply make her choke on it. Plus, the alcohol in the wine would go straight to her head, since she had an empty stomach. The two vampires drank their own glasses of wine, savoring the taste of it. "You can drink wine?" she asked them with a frown, watching them.

"Of course. Food's iffy sometimes, but wine's lovely," Arthur replied. He leaned back in his chair, legs splayed and his left arm hooked over the back of it. He swirled the wine in his glass expertly. "This would've sucked if some of the finer things in life couldn't still be appreciated while undead."

Eames snorted. "Plenty of other things to appreciate, darling."

"True enough," Arthur agreed. He leveled his gaze at Ariadne. "You're not finishing your wine?"

"I'm dizzy," she replied, frowning. It probably made no sense as an answer, the way they were looking at her, but she leaned heavily against the back of the chair and tried to pull the blanket further around her shoulders. "And I'm cold."

Eames suddenly appeared at her side with one of the bottles of Gatorade. "Then drink this, and I'll get you something to wear."

Ariadne was startled, and looked between the two of them. "How did you do that?"

"I only slow down for the important things, love," Eames replied with a naughty smirk before licking the shell of her ear. He left the room quickly, moving so fast that he was a blur.

"Some of the stories are true," Arthur told her, laughter in his voice. "Not all of them are, but some of the stories out there are definitely true."

"What are you going to do with me?" Ariadne asked as Eames returned with her clothes from the basement. "You said you're not going to kill me tonight..."

Arthur merely smiled. "You should get dressed. You're cold."

They had to help her, which was humiliating and terrifying all at once. She swayed when standing upright, and the room tilted at a crazy angle. Ariadne found herself falling forward into Eames' arms as Arthur tugged on her jeans, and he simply held her there against his chest. It was disturbing to hear the heart beating there, strong and steady. He was _dead,_ but his heart kept beating. Eames sat her back down afterward and pressed the Gatorade into her hands. It was easier to simply drink it and then take the vitamins that Arthur pressed into her hands than argue. She was so tired and thirsty, and it seemed like such an effort to breathe.

After she finished the bottle, Eames picked her up easily in his arms. "Sleep time for you, love. Too much excitement for one night."

She offered up protest, but there wasn't much she could do. He brought her down to the basement again, into the room she had opened last when she had been searching it with Cobb. They had set it up as a bedroom for the two of them, possibly because there had been nothing in the room to begin with. Eames deposited her in the middle of the big bed and crawled in after her on one side. Arthur came in on the other side and settled down next to her. "Do vampires sleep during the day?" she asked tiredly. "Was that true?"

"Sometimes we sleep," Arthur said, curling a hand over her stomach almost protectively. "Don't have to, usually."

Eames tucked his head against hers and made little snuffling sounds into her hair. "Might be a better day for it today, though."

This was perfectly ridiculous, but Ariadne kept her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. She was in a weakened state, and they could kill her at any time. She could only hold them to their word that they wouldn't kill her right now. It took up too much energy to be afraid or angry. She was numb, really, simply going through the motions. It almost hurt to think.

Sleep seemed like a much better idea. And if they killed her, so be it.

***  
***


	3. Half Sick Of Shadows

Ariadne was disoriented when she woke. There were two male bodies curled heavily around hers, it was dark, and she had no idea where she was.

Then everything all crashed down, and it was all she could not to scream.

Gingerly, she disentangled herself from the arms and legs wrapped around her. Arthur cracked an eye open. "What is it?"

"Bathroom?" she offered up weakly, cringing slightly. Fuck. She had hoped he would be out like a light. Or sleeping like the dead.

"Up by the kitchen," Eames muttered, face pressed into the pillow. "Need a carry up the stairs?"

"N-no, I think I'm a little better now."

"Good," Arthur murmured, his eye sliding shut again. "Come back when you're done. You keep the bed warm."

Ariadne carefully got down and out of the room, then shut the door behind her. She had to take the long way around the basement, clinging to the rough stone wall to remain upright. She wanted to weep, but her eyes remained stubbornly dry. When she reached the stairs, she really did have to use the bathroom, even if she knew that there likely wouldn't be anything much for her body to give up. The human body held approximately eight pints of blood, if she remembered correctly. They likely drained at least two pints. It was no wonder she wasn't firing at all cylinders.

She made her way to the basement doors slowly, a stubborn grip on the railing the only thing keeping her upright. She turned the handle and was blinded for a while by the bright sunlight streaming into the kitchen of the house. All the window shades were up, and it was easily the middle of the afternoon.

The bathroom was easy to find. Afterward, Ariadne found the grocery bags that Arthur must have brought up with him the night (or was that morning?) before. She started drinking from one of the bottles, cracking open the seal. At first she was afraid the vampires would come after her for not going back downstairs right away.

Then she remembered the sunlight bright all around her, and that it was the one story that was always true. Vampires couldn't stand in full sunlight without bursting into flames.

Doggedly, she headed for the back door. She knew it wasn't logical, but she kept looking over her shoulder as if she would find Eames or Arthur there. Going very slowly, the back door didn't creak as loudly as it had when she and Cobb entered the house the day before. She staggered across the porch and down the stairs, heading for the front driveway that would lead to the main road. She had left her car there, and if she could just get to it, her keys and purse should also be there.

When Ariadne got to the driveway, however, it was empty. There was no car, no support, and it was entirely too far to the open road. A choked sound escaped her throat, something like fear and desperation. She staggered forward anyway, refusing to let this overwhelm her. It was afternoon sometime. Sundown would be around six o'clock. She had a few hours to go, and perhaps she could get far enough away that they wouldn't find her. She didn't want to think about the fact that she still had her period for another two days, that they could probably just track down her scent. She refused to think about that.

She collapsed to the side of the driveway, falling face first into the tall grasses. It obscured her from the road, if anyone did in fact ever drive that way, and she wanted to cry. She couldn't even drag herself forward. Her entire body felt leaden, and it was almost like an internal command to stay put.

Unable to fight it, she slept.

***

Ariadne groaned when she was rolled over onto her back. She blinked up at Eames and Arthur's faces staring down at her in the twilight. _Fuck._

"You've been a naughty, naughty girl," Eames said, picking her up.

"We've been very nice so far." Arthur tucked her arms in against Eames' chest. "Here, you've been out under the sun for hours when we had drinks and snacks and vitamins for you. Really, very careless of you."

They were chastising her like a child, and she felt a flare of anger rise within her chest. "Let me go," she said, her voice as tough as she could manage when she wanted to sink bonelessly down to the ground. "I need to go home."

"This is home for you now," Eames replied as he kicked open the back door and brought her inside. "Best to accept that sooner rather than later, really."

Arthur simply watched her lean heavily against the back of the chair Eames deposited her into. "Did you really think you could have gotten far?"

"I would've given it a good enough try," Ariadne replied stubbornly, making him smile. "What?"

"You can't get away from us now. We'll always know where you are. You're tied to us."

Ariadne frowned. "Because you've fed from me?" She hadn't heard that story.

Eames laughed. "No, love. Because you've fed from _us."_

Arthur's lips curled into a smile at Ariadne's shock. "Come now. You didn't think we'd let you go without a fight, did you?" She could only watch as Arthur went into the fridge. It had been empty the day before, but now she recognized the contents of her own refrigerator there. Arthur went through the motions of heating up one of her storage containers, and she could smell the leftover macaroni and cheese when he cracked the lid open. "This will do, I think," he murmured to himself. "You're not terribly hungry at the moment. Fluids are still the primary priority for you right now."

"I stocked the cabinet last night," Eames offered as Arthur put the dish into the microwave to heat up. "We should be good for a bit."

Ariadne felt like curling in on herself and hiding. "Why are you doing this?"

"You need to eat," Arthur replied, rummaging around in the cabinets looking for plates and forks. "Ah... This is where they are."

"What happened to the people that used to live here?" Ariadne asked in a small voice.

"Did we eat them, you mean?" Eames asked from behind her, sounding terribly amused.

"Well... Yes."

"No, unfortunately. There was quite the mess to clean up, actually."

Arthur set the reheated food onto the plate and pushed it in front of her, fork tucked neatly against the food. "You have quite the preconceived notions of us, don't you?"

"You're vampires. You eat people. Drink their blood," she corrected before either of them could. "Whatever. You _kill._ What else is there to know?"

Eames simply laughed, as if what she had said was amusing. "Oh, poppet. Who died?"

Ariadne went still in the chair. "What?"

"No one becomes a hunter without losing someone," Arthur said, leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed lazily. "So who did you lose?"

"It wasn't us, I'd wager," Eames said, leaning down to hover over her shoulder. "If we did something like that, you'd be pushing to kill us, not simply leave."

"No, it wasn't the two of you," Ariadne admitted, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. There are plenty of idiots out there as it is," Eames replied. He nipped at her earlobe and then started rummaging about in a cabinet to get her something to drink.

Arthur had kept a steady gaze on her face through all of this. "The man with you last night. He wasn't important to you."

Ariadne flinched. She hadn't really thought about him, except in an almost abstract way. God, she was awful.

He took a chair and spun it around. He sat down, straddling the back of the chair, his crossed arms over the back of it. He rested his chin on his crossed arms and contemplated her silence. "Not a friend, then. Not someone who lost the same people you did. Probably someone you were working with as a hunter, right? This is the one you were mad at on the phone last week?" He smiled at her surprise. "We have very good hearing, Ariadne. Senses are enhanced by the transition. Among other things." His smile broadened, and she could see the fangs in his mouth.

As if she really needed a reminder of what he was.

Eames sat beside her. "If you're too tired to handle the fork, I'll feed you," he offered helpfully. "Only fair, considering you've fed us."

Ariadne flinched again, her fists tightening in her lap. "That wasn't my choice."

He gently tucked her hair behind her ear. "So few things are anymore, isn't that right?"

She slid her eyes down to the plate on the table in front of her, refusing to look at either of them. She wanted to go home. She wanted to erase the past year and just start it over with her family intact and their stupid petty gripes about her father's hectic work schedule at the university and her sister borrowing her clothes without her permission. She didn't even realize she was crying until Eames slid an arm around her shoulders. Arthur was at her other side in an instant, his hand sliding into her lap to cover her fists. "Tell us who you lost," she heard him whisper against her ear, and it felt like an irresisitble command.

"I don't know who it was. He broke into the house and just attacked my sister," she whispered brokenly, breath hitching into a sob. "Her throat was a mess and part of her shoulder was missing. I... I think she died first. My dad must have gone after him next. I wasn't there for that part. I'd been out, and when I came home the door was open and I saw him standing there with his teeth in my mother's neck and I just started screaming. He dropped her and ran off, and I went in the house and found the others..."

Arthur rubbed her wrists gently, soothingly. He had his lips against her temple and had followed her as she hunched her shoulders and bowed her head further at the memory. Eames had his face pressed against her opposite shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I'll find him and kill him," Ariadne said quietly. "Someday, I will."

"Of course, love," Eames murmured against her shoulder. "That sort... Must've been new. Fledglings never can control themselves, but their sires should hold them on a tight leash for at least the first decade."

Arthur snorted. "You got a decade? I was on my own after a year."

"I'm much more likable."

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, sniffling. She removed a hand to wipe at her eyes.

"Oh, where to start?" Arthur asked with a shrug. "There are certain... dynamics at work. The vampire world isn't nearly as scattered as the hunters seem to believe it is."

"Unless you're in Europe," Eames pointed out.

"Unless you're in Europe," Arthur conceded. "Which we happen to be in, but everyone thinks Miles has nominal control."

Eames snorted. "He just wants people to think he controls nothing."

"If it's him, Fischer or Saito, I choose him."

Ariadne sniffled and looked at the both of them. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"Vampire politics, love," Eames said with a shrug. "It's boring."

"We stay away from that crap," Arthur told her. "You need to eat."

She found herself reaching for the fork woodenly, like a puppet on strings. "It's cold," she complained after the first forkful.

"If you ate it when it was warm," Arthur began with a half smile. He went to reheat it in the microwave.

Eames continued leaning into her space, playing with her hair. "It won't be so bad with us, Ariadne," he murmured softly.

"Why me?"

"Dropped into our laps like a gift from the heavens," he replied cheerily. "Why not you?"

"I nearly killed you."

"Missed my heart by an inch," Eames agreed, smiling. "Obviously I'm fated for other things."

"I'll try again," Ariadne told him, feeling a sense of calm settle over her.

"Promise?"

"Enough of that," Arthur said, putting the plate back down in front of her. "You're eating, he's shutting his mouth, and I'm going to draw you a bath."

"We'll get to watch, of course," Eames said helpfully as she began to eat.

"Shut it," Arthur warned, pointing at Eames. He grinned unrepentantly, but did get up and let Ariadne eat in peace.

In the silence, it made her wonder where the car went and how the contents of her fridge wound up in this house. Her senses were dulled, so she had no idea where Arthur went to draw up a bath. Eames might have been out of sight, but she was sure he wasn't far away. She put the fork down when she was done and pushed herself up to her feet. Heart thudding dully in her chest, Ariadne glanced at the back door. She'd never make it far enough out of the house before they caught her. They moved too fast, were too strong for her and it was dark outside.

"I can almost see the gears turning in your head," Eames said, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway. He had a smile on his face. "Quite lovely, really."

Ariadne whirled around, startled, and nearly fell. Eames was suddenly there, catching her before she hit the floor. "What?"

"Can't go falling all over me, now," Eames laughed. He swept her up in his arms. "You're such a tiny thing." He made a big show of looking around. "Hey. Don't tell Arthur I did this."

"Did what?"

Eames shifted his grip and bit his wrist before pressing it to her mouth. She let out a cry of alarm and tried to turn away. "Sh... Drink up, love. You need this." Ariadne could taste his blood on her tongue and tried to work it past her lips. Eames stopped smiling, and his blue eyes looked almost black. _"Drink."_

Unable to stop herself, Ariadne parted her lips and let his blood flow across her tongue. She swallowed, holding his wrist to her mouth to keep from letting any escape. He tasted sweet, his blood flowing thick like honey. After a moment that seemed like forever, he pulled his wrist from her mouth and she watched the wound seal after a few seconds. He licked the remainder of the blood clinging to his skin. "Well now, that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me do what you wanted?"

His grin was sly. "You're mortal. I'm not." He gently lowered her so that she stood on her own two feet again. "And the more you feed from us, the more difficult it will be for you to resist us."

Ariadne skittered away from him, and found that the room stopped swaying. She was up on her own two feet, and she felt as if she could run out of the house without falling if she really needed to. Unfortunately, Eames was between her and the door, and it would be no small thing for him to catch her about the waist as she ran past. "What are you doing to me?"

Eames smirked and nodded at the doorway. "Off to your bath. Or do I need to press the issue?"

She kept her back to the wall and edged toward the doorway. She collided with Arthur, who was glaring at Eames. "Upstairs, first door on the left," he said without looking at her. "I've laid out some things for you so you don't have to wander far."

Ariadne fled up the stairs away from them. Her ability to remain upright seemed to make Arthur angry, but she didn't pause to figure out why. She shut the bathroom door and turned the lock, even if they could easily break down the door. It was the spirit of the thing, really. She sank down on the edge of the tub, breathing heavily. She had her head bowed and eyes closed, hands clenched around the edge of the tub. She didn't even look at what Arthur had set out for her to wear. She was being treated like a silly child again, as if this was all something ordinary and she was freaking out for no reason.

Her hands slowly loosened from the edge of the tub. She felt grimy and awful, as if she had to strip her skin and scrub herself down to the bone. With stiff fingers, she undressed and left everything scattered across the floor. She sank down into the warm water, watching it rise up to her chin. She crossed her arms over her chest beneath the water and leaned back against the edge of the tub. She idly thought of praying, but didn't think that would help. These two didn't seem to be the type affected by prayer or holy water.

The taste of Eames' blood still lay thick on her tongue. Despite the warmth of the water, she wanted to shiver. Cobb hadn't mentioned any stories about what would happen if a human swallowed vampire blood. Was it going to change her? Was she going to turn into one of them? No one was entirely sure about the process of turning a human into a vampire, though draining the human completely of blood seemed to be commonly held as vital.

She was startled by a knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Arthur asked.

Ariadne sat up abruptly, water sloshing over the side of the tub. It was cooler than she remembered; she must have dozed off. "What if I say no?"

"I'll stay out here, but I'd really appreciate it if you let me in."

"I locked the door."

"Ah." The lock on the door flipped over. "There. Can I come in?"

She couldn't breathe. "What do you want?"

"You're upset now, aren't you?"

 _You think?_ she thought acidly. She lowered her head so that her cheek rested against the side of the tub. "Does it matter?"

"I just want to talk."

Ariadne let out a gusty breath. "Fine."

Arthur came into the bathroom and sat down on the closed toilet seat across from her. "I'm sorry about what happened."

"Are you really?" Arthur simply shrugged, and Ariadne frowned. "Did you kill him?"

"Eames? For that stunt?" Arthur asked in surprise. "You really think we kill everything?"

"Don't you? Isn't that what you do?" Ariadne asked, looking at him. She held the edge of the tub in a white knuckled grip, as if it was any kind of protection against him. "You can do whatever you want, can't you?" she asked, her voice taking on an almost hysterical edge. "Even opening locks without touching them."

"Well, I cheated on that one," Arthur replied with a grin, digging into his pocket for the strip of metal he had used to pop the lock on the bathroom door.

"Mind control, then."

"It's a question of willpower, and most mortals simply don't have it."

Ariadne scowled in response and resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Why are you really here talking to me?" she asked tiredly. She dropped her chin to the edge of the tub and looked at him evenly. "Or is this where you tell me you're tired of me already and you'll kill me after all?"

He was in front of her within the blink of an eye, his hand cupping the back of her skull almost gently. "You're afraid. You think I've lied to you."

"Haven't you?"

"Not at all. Well... Not much, anyway."

"I'm going to kill you, too, someday," Ariadne said, her voice even and her gaze level with his. Arthur merely smiled at her. "You don't believe me."

"Oh, I believe you'll _try._ It'll certainly stave off the boredom when you do. Forever isn't always what it's cracked up to be."

Before she could ask what he meant by that, Arthur leaned in and kissed her. He must have dragged his teeth across his tongue to slice it open, because Ariadne could taste blood in her mouth again and she knew it wasn't her own. Arthur's hand was firm at the back of her head, keeping her from moving away from him. His mouth firmly fixed to hers, there was nothing left to do but swallow the blood sliding across her tongue. It was thick and sweet as well, but it was slightly different, as if spiced subtly. Arthur slid his other hand beneath the water line to trace the curve of her back, making her shiver.

Arthur broke the kiss when the blood stopped flowing and the wound on his tongue sealed. He moved to kiss her throat, the hand at her back moving to trace the edge of her arm. She was still clutching the edge of the tub as if it could stop him from what he obviously intended to do. "If he's not dead, what's your friend going to say about this?"

"He'd watch," Arthur murmured against her throat. "Then he'll join in." He moved both of his hands to grasp her shoulders firmly, lifting her effortlessly up and out of the tub. He pulled her against him, and Ariadne tried to push against his chest. "Is that a problem?" he asked, eyebrow arched at her. His expression was otherwise bland.

"Yes. You're _dead."_

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Arthur replied with a smirk.

There was a snort from the doorway and Ariadne looked up in alarm. Eames was there, looking as unrepentantly lascivious as ever. He grabbed the clothes that Arthur had set out. "Let's muss the master bedroom. There's hours yet before we need to retire."

Ariadne didn't like the way they both looked at her. She was the main course on their menu, and she was powerless to stop it.

Arthur moved so that his lips were next to her ear. "I could _make you_ play with us, but where's the fun in that, hm? I want you to play of your own volition."

"Then you'll wait a long time," Ariadne retorted.

He slid one hand along her breast, and Ariadne sucked in a breath. "Will I really?"

"Yes," Ariadne said with a voice that was firmer than she felt. She needed to escape. She needed to get out of here, though they would probably never let her go.

"Close your eyes," Eames said, looking more like a python poised to strike. "He's going to move fast, isn't he? Wouldn't want you to get dizzy."

"What?"

The world spun around her, and she found herself clutching Arthur tight as he picked her up faster than she could even blink. They were in what had to be the master bedroom, though she hadn't paid much attention during her impromptu search the week before. She was deposited in the center of the massive bed, headboard banging into the wall behind it. "Ah. That must've woken the children," Eames said, a pleased note to his voice.

"Seriously?" Arthur asked, lofting an eyebrow at him. Eames merely grinned at him and left Ariadne's clothes on top of the dresser, in front of the mirror.

"At least our pet's bruises are gone. Stepping up the timetable was a good idea, admit it."

Arthur practically growled at Eames, and Ariadne couldn't figure out who was the boss in the relationship, or who was the older of the two. Stories held that older vampires were stronger, faster and harder to kill, with more immunities to common means of killing them. Perhaps that was why the silver bullets hadn't worked well. Maybe they only worked on fledgling vampires.

Eames grasped her ankle and slid his hand up her calf, the motion slicked by the water still clinging to her skin. "I'll be nice for a change, Arthur," he said, eyes starting to turn from blue to black. Ariadne shivered, not just from the cold. "You can take your time."

When he ran his fangs along her instep, all she could think of was Eames sinking his teeth into Cobb's leg. She nearly sobbed, but then Arthur was hovering above her. His mouth claimed hers, a hand curling around her jaw in a surprisingly tender caress. She could almost close her eyes and pretend she was with someone that cared about her, someone she actually gave a fuck about. He touched his tongue to the seam of her lips, gently asking permission to enter, and she parted them slowly. Arthur's tongue slid into her mouth to stroke hers languidly, his thumb stroking her chin slowly. She could feel her nipples pebbling against his chest, though she told herself it was simply the chill from water evaporating off of her skin. It had nothing to do with Arthur's tongue in her mouth, Eames stroking her ankle with his fangs and lips and fingers, or Arthur's thighs on either side of one of hers.

Arthur swallowed her choked breath and moved his hand down along the smooth column of her throat to the rise of her chest. He abraded her nipple with the heel of his hand, and Ariadne bucked up against him with a startled sound of pleasure. He still kissed her, as if he could do this until the end of time. Eames started working his way upward, his attention on the leg not currently trapped between Arthur's. He licked a stripe up the side of her calf muscle, then along the side of her knee. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice soft and almost reverent.

She had no idea which side of either vampire was the real one. She was almost ready to give up trying to figure it out.

Eames blew a breath along the inside of her thigh, watching her shiver at the contact. His soft lips followed his breath, then he dragged the edge of a fang against her skin. It felt like the scrape of fingernails along the inside of her thigh. Coupled with Arthur's mouth over hers and his hand on her breast, Ariadne twisted between them, moaning low in her throat. Eames moved up to the juncture of her thighs, lips and tongue insistent against her sensitive flesh. There was the drag of teeth and fang across her folds, slowly and delicately. The flare of terror was there, but buried beneath the heady pleasure in their touch.

Arthur broke his kiss to feather some across her jaw and neck, and it almost sounded as if he was murmuring things against her skin. It sounded like "waited so long for this," but her harsh breathing made it hard for her to tell. Ariadne grasped his shoulder with one hand, and had the coverlet caught tight in her fist in the other. Eames sucked on her clit, making her buck against his mouth as he slid his fingers inside of her. She could feel the pleasure shoot through her, and all she could do was writhe beneath them and gasp for breath. Eames coaxed an orgasm out of her, then sat back and sucked on his bloody fingers as Arthur pulled back long enough to strip off his own clothing. He slid inside her in one swift motion, making Ariadne keen in pleasure and arch up against him. Arthur bent over her, balancing on one arm as he used his other to lift one leg high up around his hips. "Hold onto me," he growled above her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, heart stuttering in her chest. He wasn't deliberately commanding her, but she still grasped his shoulders and tried to remember how to breathe as he slammed into her.

Eames stripped and pushed himself into Arthur's body with a possessive growl. His thrusts into Arthur pushed him deeper inside of Ariadne. She nearly howled at the feel of it, and dimly registered the creak of the bed and the slamming of the headboard into the wall. She dug her nails into Arthur's shoulders, seeing his eyes turn black and his fangs almost elongate in his mouth. Ariadne whimpered at the sight of it as well as the feel of him inside her. Eames held Arthur's hips in a tight grip and moved at a punishing pace. He came more or less at the same time as Ariadne, and bit down deeply into the side of Arthur's throat. Arthur arched back into his touch with a groan, and then leaned forward as he came inside of Ariadne. Eames let go of his throat, licking his fangs contentedly.

Ariadne felt boneless beneath them, and was startled when Arthur pressed her mouth to the wound at his throat. His blood flowed freely across her tongue and down her throat, and she couldn't help but swallow it down. He groaned at the feel of her drawing the blood out of him, and Ariadne made a choking noise as he bit down on the side of her throat. She didn't even feel the sting of it this time, but she did stop sucking at the wound in Arthur's throat. She traced the edge of it with her tongue, feeling it seal up. Arthur let go of her and licked the wound shut.

Both of the vampires were kneeling on the bed beside her sprawled form, smiling down at her in a satisfied kind of way. "Definitely more fun when you play along, right?" Arthur asked her. Ariadne blushed furiously, remembering her denial not even an hour ago that she would ever cooperate. Dammit.

"Go on and rest, love," Eames said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You look all fucked out at the moment."

Sleep definitely seemed like a good idea.

***  
***


	4. Telling Tales

She had to have dozed; when she woke, she was cold and alone on the bed. She felt great, not tired or dizzy at all. It was the way she had felt earlier in the kitchen, as if she could run out of the house and hit the main road to run back toward town. She dressed in the clothes Arthur had set out for her earlier, and was slightly disturbed to realize that they were her own clothes from her loft. They must have been there, must have taken all her things. She felt violated and helpless, and her heart stuttered in her chest.

Arthur and Eames were in the drawing room, glasses of wine out. Ariadne crept down the stairs slowly, drawn to the sound of their voices.

"...miss that," Eames was saying, swirling the red wine in his glass. "I think we can stay a while."

"Well, it's not as if we _have_ to tell Miles anything. It's only common courtesy."

Eames snorted. "As long as we don't try heading across the pond again."

"Fuck that. I don't want to deal with Fischer's goons. It was bad enough after Mal."

"And I wouldn't try Tokyo again. Saito wouldn't appreciate seeing our faces just yet."

"He has a long memory," Arthur agreed, drinking his wine. "And I actually kind of like this house. It's like the one we had in Italy forty years ago."

"God, how do you _remember_ that shit?" Eames asked with a laugh.

"That one's easy," Arthur replied, a smile in his voice. Ariadne could see him clearly from the stairs. He was in an armchair, feet up on the coffee table. He was dressed only in jeans, chest bare and toes wiggling in the night air. He had a glass of white wine in hand, swirling it lazily in the glass. "Vittorine was back for a visit, remember?"

Eames was slouched across the hideous floral couch. He cracked a slow smile. "Oh, yes. Mama dearest was in fine form then."

"She _hates_ it when you call her that," Arthur said with a smile. For a moment, Ariadne thought they looked almost... normal.

"Which is of course why I do it," Eames said with a laugh. "She must be in Rome by now. She has a thing for liturgy. God only knows why."

"She likes the perverse, that's why. Why else choose you to turn?" Arthur said with a grin. Eames lobbed one of the couch pillows at Arthur's head. Arthur caught it with his free hand, wine not even disturbed in his glass. He tossed it somewhere near Eames' feet on the couch. "What? You're saying it's not true?"

"Hey, it was a good time while we were together." He had an easy smile on his face, obviously remembering Vittorine. "Might not be a bad idea to ask after her, see if she approves."

"Do you care about her approval?"

"No. But if we're going to be _polite_ and all that rot, why not? It would be nice to see her again. It's been forty years, you said."

"At least." Arthur took a slow sip of his wine. "It would liven up her life a bit, I think. She hates the rules more than you do."

"Which is saying something," Eames snarked, tipping his glass in mock salute at Arthur. He grew a fraction more serious. "I _like_ her Arthur," he said in a quiet voice, pointing vaguely upward with his glass. "I didn't think I would."

"Death threats turn you on?" Arthur asked archly.

"Something like that. She reminds me a bit of Vittorine in places."

"Oh, we're in trouble, then," Arthur replied, grinning.

"Fuck you, darling," Eames sniffed. "Here I was, being serious for a bloody change..."

"And you thought I was kidding about this."

"Well, your track record _sucks,_ darling."

Arthur's expression tightened. "I should have seen that coming with Kimiko, but I didn't. I won't make that mistake again."

"Hey... I didn't mean anything by it."

"Of course you did," Arthur replied, no heat in his tone. "I remember that, too. It's why Saito can't stand us."

"Well, I didn't like Tokyo anyway."

"Liar."

Eames shrugged with a playful expression on his face. "Well, there's always Hong Kong or Singapore. We could get lost there for a while and still disappear before Saito gets wind of us being near Asia."

"Don't count on it," Arthur replied with a shake of his head. "With the clashes with Fischer, he'd have all the borders on alert for _anyone_ suspicious. No, I think we should probably stick around Europe for the next century, just to be sure."

"It's not as if there aren't places to knacker about anyway," Eames replied, draining his glass. "We could visit Franz in Vienna. He knows how to throw a party."

"That jealous bastard? Hell no."

Eames laughed almost delightedly. "Afraid of a little competition?"

"I like my head where it is, thank you. His fascination with swords is a bit disconcerting."

Eames was definitely laughing in amusement now. "I do like how he needles you, darling."

"Fuck you, too."

"Oh, I plan to," Eames replied sweetly. "And our delightful little pet. She is lovely, by the way. I don't say that enough."

Arthur looked down at his toes for a moment. "I don't want to turn her just yet."

"Why not?"

He looked up at Eames, his expression carefully blank. "Forever is a long time, Eames. You think she's ready for it? Honestly, now."

Eames pursed his lips, amusement gone. "She could be, Arthur. She's not Kimiko."

"No, she's not. She's a hunter. Fledgling, maybe, but we did almost lose you."

"Good point."

"I say wait."

"I hate waiting," Eames sighed, pouring himself another glass of wine.

"Good things are worth waiting for."

"So you keep telling me."

They lapsed into silence, and Ariadne felt it was a good enough time to enter the room without making it obvious that she had been listening. She hadn't understood most of the conversation, but the idea of them turning her was at once horrifying and sickening. She couldn't be like them. She _wouldn't_ be like them.

She'd kill them first.

"How much did you hear?" Arthur asked quietly, still lounging with his feet up and swirling his wine in his glass.

"Wh-what?"

"I could hear your heartbeat," he replied mildly, looking up at her. Eames merely gave her a grin. "I don't particularly care if you heard, considering we do plan to keep you. Sooner or later you'd learn what's going on. But I'm sure there are questions you have."

"I don't want you to turn me," Ariadne blurted, her heart doing triple time in her chest. Her stomach was roiling, and she thought she was going to be sick. All she could see in the back of her mind was the bloody mess her family had been turned into, and the two of them licking her blood off of their teeth.

"You might like it," Eames replied with a lazy grin. "Don't knock it 'till you've tried it."

"It's a process," Arthur added. "It's something that would gradually happen over time. Don't make any snap decisions."

She was nearly shaking with anger. "Don't fucking patronize me. I know what I want."

"Like earlier?" Arthur asked, eyebrow arched. He at least didn't look smug at her angry flush of shame. "But this is a conversation for a different day. Come on. Have a seat, drink some wine. There must be something else you're dying to know."

Ariadne winced at his choice of words. "The people that you were just talking about... The vampires... Whoever..."

"Politics, in other words," Eames said with a grin, burrowing a bit deeper into the couch. "Loads of shite, but something we unfortunately have to deal with."

"I thought vampires were single hunters. Or lived in nests?"

Both vampires looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "Damn, Mal did a great job."

Ariadne froze at the name. "Mal?"

"Miles' daughter. Well, great-great... How many greats? I forget. Whatever. Descended from one of his mortal children. Mallorie. She used to misinform all the local hunters. It was a wonderful ploy while it lasted."

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, standing very still in front of them. Perhaps she should have poured herself some wine after all.

"What last name was she using? It wasn't Miles. She was married, had kids, and all that." Eames took a sip of wine as he thought. "I can't remember. Arthur?"

"I don't pay attention to that kind of thing."

"Bullshit. You're the one up on politics."

"I didn't care about her last name," Arthur replied, rolling his eyes. "I just cared that she had nothing to do with Fischer or Saito."

"Okay fine, be that way. Anyway," Eames said, turning back to Ariadne. "She got involved with various hunter groups, threw out different stories. None of them really entirely true, and she brought back any trends to Miles. Mal had a human family and everything, so it's not as though she was always around. She just helped out like all of her ancestors had done."

"Fischer fucked up," Arthur declared when Eames stopped. "You sure you don't want some wine? You're looking awfully pale."

"Yes, I think I should."

Arthur poured her some white wine and Ariadne sat down on the love seat, roughly opposite the both of them. "Fischer decided that Miles was easy pickings. He's not a stickler for all of the traditions, and he only loosely moderates Europe, you understand. He's not interested in a complete power grab, and it's worked for hundreds of years. Fischer is in control of most of North America, and he's a bastard about it. He decided to make a play for Europe, and did it in the form of killing Mal."

Ariadne's hands shook and she had to put down the wine glass. "What? How?"

"She was only moderately protected, and Fischer sent in a few goons. They left her outside her house and her poor husband found her. Went insane, Miles said. Sent the children off to America. Miles allowed it only because it was the midwest, and the vampire population is pretty damn low out there. Plus, it was _her_ mother that got the kids, so they'd be under the protection of his bloodline and raised up to protect the family secrets."

"Miles, though," Eames said, cutting in, "went absolutely bonkers. For once, he was militarized. Frightening, really. We got the fuck out of Paris when that happened. Slaughtered Fischer's goons _personally_ and sent their heads back. Then sent a few of his most trusted across the pond, obliterated all the DC population of vampires. _Obliterated._ Said he'd continue to decimate the East Coast if Fischer ever so much as _looked_ at Europe again."

Mal had to be Cobb's Mal. Had to be.

"Ariadne?"

"Mal had long dark hair, didn't she? And a boy and a girl?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, God..." She covered her face in her hands. "Her name was Mallorie Cobb."

"You knew her?"

Ariadne shook her head. "You killed her husband."

Both of the vampires merely stared at her. "Come again, love?" Eames asked after a moment. "We did what?"

"Cobb. Here. Two days ago. You killed her husband." Ariadne thought she was going to hyperventilate. Was the universe really this cruel?

"Well... I suppose I'm thankful Miles wasn't overly impressed with him," Arthur said slowly. He looked at Ariadne carefully. "I thought you said you weren't attached to him?"

"I wasn't, not like that, but... He'd talk about her. Not like you do, but..." She shook her head, knowing she was making a mess of things because she didn't really have the words to explain it. "You just don't care, do you? That she's dead and her family was ripped apart. It's absolutely nothing to you."

"I didn't know her," Arthur replied. "It's like listening to a stranger's tale."

"So that's what it's like for you? Not giving a shit about anyone but yourself?"

Both of them turned impassive faces toward her. "You know what your problem is, love?" Eames asked, eyebrow lofted. "You have too much damn humanity. The world is a dark, dirty place. It's been that way a long time. Trust me on this one. I've been around the block a few times, and it hasn't gotten any better."

 _"La plus ça change, la plus le même chose,"_ Arthur murmured with a flawless accent.

"Showoff," Eames said, downing the last of the wine in his glass. He turned back toward Ariadne's outraged expression. "It might be selfish, but it helped us survive. It's not just hunters that are a problem, lovely girl. It's _forever._ Do you have any concept of what that's like?"

"No, and I don't want to."

Eames moved to lean over her, and Ariadne shrank back into the back of the loveseat. "Ever feel as though everything's been done? Nothing's new, nothing matters, nothing is fun? Ever feel as though you're so bored you'd pull out your own eyes just to see what would happen?" Ariadne shook her head rapidly, eyes never leaving Eames' face. She was terrified; as much as they said they planned to turn her, they could just as easily rip her throat out and kill her. It was a fear that was constant in the back of her mind. Eames touched her face gently, tracing the curve of her cheek. Ariadne spared a glance at Arthur, but he hadn't moved from his lounging position and was sipping slowly at the wine, savoring it. "Eternity is like that when you're alone, love. So sometimes you have to pick and choose what you get attached to. Nothing else lasts forever." He rubbed his thumb against her lower lip. "Maybe we shouldn't either, but we exist. You make do however you can."

He straddled her slumped form, hands grasping the back of the love seat for balance. He smiled at her, fangs flashing in the light. "Mortal lives are short in comparison. I tried that caring shite once, when I was new. You know what, love?" he asked, leaning in close to her face. She shook her head again. "It _sucked._ So maybe a little inhumanity isn't necessarily a bad thing."

Ariadne froze when his lips touched hers, when his hands moved down from the love seat back to grasp her shoulders. "I don't want to be like that," she whispered hoarsely.

"Everyone copes differently," Arthur said idly from his sprawled position across from them. "But if you can't distance yourself, you lose yourself. That's just how it is." He let his feet fall to the floor and he put down the glass. "I knew someone who kept her humanity as long as she could."

"And?" she prompted, a defiant tilt of her chin.

"She walked into the sun." There was a bleak note to his voice. "She wasn't the only one I've known."

"Arthur..."

He got up with a shake of his head. "I'm not getting maudlin, Eames. It's the truth." He looked at Ariadne, slumped on the couch beneath Eames. "It isn't pretty, Ariadne. Real life never is. This isn't for everyone. But if you can face us and try to kill us without knowing anything about us, I think you're strong enough to face eternity."

"I don't want it."

"I said that once, too," Arthur said, a sad smile on his face. "Things change."

"This won't."

Eames slid a hand around to cup the back of her neck. "Sure about that, love?"

"Yes."

Arthur shrugged. "Then I suppose we'll just have to see." He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged negligently. "We're patient. We have time on our side."

"I'll kill you both."

 _"Le petit mort,"_ Eames murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I do so look forward to that."

"We'll see," Arthur said simply. His face was blank, but there was something unreadable in his eyes that almost disconcerted Ariadne. "Maybe this is when things change. Maybe it isn't. I've been alive a very long time." There was an almost sinister smile on his face, and Ariadne shivered. "Bring on your best game, Ariadne. I can't wait to see it."

***

Ariadne woke slowly, twisting slightly in bed. This was possibly the most erotic dream she'd ever had, and she could still feel pressure on her breast and warmth between her legs. As she opened her eyes, she saw Arthur's head bent over her breast, the overlarge nightgown shifted to bare her to him. His fingers were buried inside of her, the hem of the nightgown lifted up. Eames was dozing lightly next them; apparently older vampires didn't actually sleep during the day. Ariadne had one hand threaded through the hair at the base of Arthur's skull, the other was tangled in the sheets. She came with a small startled sound, and Arthur looked up with a smile on his face. "Good afternoon, sleepyhead."

"What time is it?"

He curled his fingers inside of her, making her gasp in pleasure. "Oh, maybe two or three in the afternoon. The blackout curtains held nicely. We could probably stay up here for another day or two, then move back downstairs."

"Wh-why?" she gasped, twisting beneath him.

"Your other friends are coming, aren't they? The ones that hunter referred to on the phone? It wouldn't do to have them find us all here like this."

Ariadne whimpered as Arthur moved his fingers inside of her, and Eames snuggled close to her neck and shoulder. "We want to keep you, love," he murmured sleepily, reaching up to caress her covered breast. "We're not so bad most of the time, yeah?"

Unable to answer, she writhed beneath Arthur, who bent his head back to suckle on her breast. Eames grasped her arm and laid kisses along it, then bit down deeply into the inside of her elbow as she came. Ariadne whimpered, feeling the draw of her blood flowing into his mouth, but Eames licked the wound shut after a moment. He rested his head down against her shoulder. "You taste good, love," he murmured, running his fingers along her side. Ariadne squeezed her eyes shut, still whimpering as Arthur continued to work her body with his fingers. Eames bit into his wrist and wrist and pressed it to her gaping mouth. "Here. Drink up, it's only fair."

Later, she would have no idea why she did it, but at the time it made sense to grasp his wrist to her mouth and suck deeply, drinking up what he offered her. Arthur moved to press kisses along her throat, then shifted so that he could slide his length inside her. Eames pulled his wrist away from her mouth and smiled indulgently at her when she made a disappointed noise at her. He offered his wrist to Arthur, who was slowly starting to rock inside of Ariadne. He bit down and took a few pulls, then started to move above Ariadne in earnest. She hissed when Eames slid a hand between their bodies to find her oversensitive clit, but he laughed softly and kissed her temple as he stroked it gently. Ariadne came with a strangled groan, her entire body tense as a bowstring. Her body milked Arthur's, and he came with a soft grunt before falling forward onto his hands. "See?" Eames murmured against her hair. "You can't leave us. Think of all the fun you'd miss."

"Don't leave," Arthur murmured, withdrawing from her spent body. Ariadne could barely even breathe. Arthur's eyes were dark and haunted as he looked at her, and she almost felt sorry for him for a moment.

Then he lowered himself on top of her and sank his fangs into her neck. He didn't take much, just enough to taste her, just enough to remind her of what he was and what she was dealing with. It was just enough for her to feel all cold and shriveled inside, just enough to remind her that she was in bed with two monsters she had vowed to destroy.

It was easy to say she had to go to the bathroom to clean up. Blood streaked her thighs and stained the borrowed nightgown. She ran the shower and scrubbed her skin almost raw with the soap and washcloth she found, and hoped that the sound of the shower was enough to drown out the sound of her tears. She was trapped, and no matter how much she railed against it, what else could she do? They could find her anywhere. They could compel her to do anything they wanted. They could kill her at any time, or turn her against her will if they really wanted to.

She must have royally pissed off someone in a former life. Or maybe she had been cursed in this one. She wasn't entirely sure how that worked.

Feeling fragile, she dried herself off and wrapped herself up in towels. Both of the vampires were lying across the bed, dozing. Arthur made room for her to crawl up into bed beside them, but she shook her head. "I need to eat something."

"Don't go far, love," Eames murmured, raising his head slightly. "You're not dressed well enough to be lying outside all day."

It was a subtle threat, and she nodded. Her tongue was thick in her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest. Where could she go? She was miles from anywhere, and they'd never let her get far enough to reach the main road. "I need to get dressed," she managed to say, her voice not quite sounding like her own.

"The bedroom at the end of the hall, by the stairs," Arthur told her helpfully. "The one you had your conversation in."

As if she needed that reminder. The bedroom had been at the top of the stairs, and the foot of them was just next to the kitchen. Right below that was the basement; Arthur had been standing just inside the basement door listening to her move around the house and talking on the phone to Cobb. Neither had spoken in hushed tones, and Arthur had concentrated on what they were saying. In a few days Nash would stop by to look at the house, but the two vampires planned to stay well hidden. No one would find her, and she would be with them for the rest of eternity.

There had to be something she could do about it. She might be physically helpless, but they couldn't read her mind. They couldn't guess at what she was really feeling. She had to work smarter, then. She had to trick them somehow, maybe lull them into trusting her. Then she could get away and come back with reinforcements.

Dressed in her own clothes, it felt surreal to be moving around in someone else's kitchen, using someone else's things to make herself a meal. Her hours and sense of time were starting to get screwed up; breakfast was now four in the afternoon. Sundown would be soon, and the two vampires would be out and about. She would be expected to entertain them somehow, would be expected to simply fall into line with their plans.

She was thinking in circles right now. She would figure out something soon enough, once she stopped pushing quite so hard for it.

***  
***


	5. Dreaming Like A Ghost

There was a small space carved into the wall behind one of the large wine barrels. It might have comfortably fit two people, but it was a tight squeeze for three. Eames held Ariadne against his chest as they lay on their sides, an arm wedged tightly around her so that his hand covered her mouth. His other arm held hers firmly to her side. Arthur was wedged in across from them, and he shifted position slightly to playfully begin stroking a breast. Somewhere above them, Nash and Cobol were going through the house. They'd find the food in the cabinets and fridge, evidence of dishes being used and glasses drunk from. They'd find the empty wine bottles and the messy bed in the master bedroom as well as the clothes strewn about the other bedroom where Ariadne's things were kept. The bathrooms were being used, and it would simply seem as if a family was out for the day, instead of a pair of vampires holding a mortal woman captive.

Ariadne silently wept as she thought of escape slipping through her fingers.

She could hear the bass rumble of voices through the stone walls, but her breath came quickly as Arthur teased her nipples and slid a hand between her clenched thighs. He grinned at her lazily, then darted forward slightly to press his lips to her forehead. Her entire body shook when he teased an orgasm out of her, her cries muffled behind Eames' hand. It felt like hours later when Eames let go of her mouth, and she sobbed openly as they crawled out of the hiding place and brushed off the dust.

No one would come back to this house. No one would come looking for her or Cobb. They'd simply think he went off the deep end, or that he had run off with her. No one would think he was dead, or that Ariadne was being held against her will and fucked by two vampires.

Both of them held onto her tightly, stroking her gently as if to soothe her. She screamed incoherently and struck out at them, but it was effective as striking stone. "Come on, then," Arthur said gently, picking her up effortlessly in his arms. He brought her to the storage room he and Eames had used as a bedroom before her arrival and laid her down gently on it. "Just let it all out, Ariadne. We can take it."

"I hate you," she sobbed, hitting him in the chest. _"I hate you."_

"I know," he murmured, holding her against him when she collapsed.

Eames leaned into her and stroked her arms gently. "We don't hate you, love."

"I hate you both."

"Of course you do," Arthur agreed.

If anything, she struck his chest harder until the tears stopped flowing. Neither vampire said anything as she rubbed at her face like a child and avoided their eyes. Eames tugged on her hand. "Come on, then. Go on up and get something to eat. Take a break from us for a while."

"We'll be here when you're ready," Arthur added.

Her limbs felt wooden, as if she was simply going through the motions. She drank juice she didn't taste and ate food that might as well have been cardboard. Nothing she saw on the TV registered, and she watched the sun set with a sense of dread. She felt _empty,_ and that seemed to frighten her more than living with vampires for the past two weeks.

Eames and Arthur settled onto the couch on either side of her, not saying a word. Eames slung his arm around her shoulders and Arthur held her hand in a comfortable grip. They sat like that for a long time, just looking out of the window. It was peaceful, and Ariadne didn't register any of it.

"Are you ready to live with us, Ariadne?" Arthur asked quietly.

"I am already, aren't I?"

They both smiled at the slight sarcasm in her voice.

"Ready to be like us?" Eames asked, turning his head so that his lips were near her cheek.

"No."

"Give it time," he replied easily, closing the gap to kiss her cheek. "We can wait."

That was exactly what she was afraid of.

***

Ariadne was sitting on the back porch as the sun went down, her legs curled under her and a blanket around her shoulders. It was definitely getting chilly, and the sun was going down earlier and earlier. There was less and less time to herself now, though her sleep was almost entirely shifted so that she was awake during the night. Eames tried to give her pep talks about living with them long term, and Ariadne could almost tune it out. It had been a month since Nash and Cobol left the vineyard, about six weeks since Cobb had been killed. She was going through the motions of life, letting them manipulate her body around theirs. For those moments she was twined between them, she could feel something. It was like standing on the edge of the knife, pretending to be living. For a moment, she could let the pleasure overcome her. Coming down from the high, she pulled back into herself.

She knew they were worried about her. She didn't care.

"How long do you think we've been around, Ariadne?" Arthur asked, coming to sit beside her. She shrugged, not even bothering to look at him. It didn't matter, did it? "Sometimes I think I'm too fucking old for all of this. That there isn't any point to anything any longer."

Yeah, that made sense. Ariadne would have to agree, even if she didn't want to reply to him. She refused to agree with him, just on principle.

"There _is_ a point, Ariadne. You just have to figure out what that is."

 _I promised I'd kill you. I just haven't found a way yet._

Arthur pulled her toward him and held onto her stiff form for a while. Almost without realizing it, she molded her body against his. He was warm, which means he somehow must have fed. They had been so very careful about not taking too much of her blood from the vein, and had been quite enthusiastic about licking up every bit of menstrual blood when her period came again. Ariadne wondered what had died, but shied away from that thought. It didn't matter, anyway. She was going to kill them.

It was a mantra she repeated to herself. She was going to kill them, she just had to figure out how.

"It's the hardest thing to figure out," Arthur continued, not seeming to mind her silence. "What do you live for? What's the point of existing? Merely existing isn't enough. It's having a purpose. It's having something to do. Miles has his mortal family. I suppose Fischer and Saito have their little empires. Us, sometimes it's enough just being here. Sometimes it isn't."

"Who's Kimiko?" Ariadne asked, more to unsettle him than out of actual curiosity. Her name had come up one other time in the past month, and Arthur hadn't wanted to discuss her at all. He was willing to discuss what would and wouldn't kill vampires, what protected them, what skills they tended to develop with age and what the intercontinental politics were like. If Ariadne had a way to contact any of the other hunters, she would have been able to teach an entire seminar on what she had learned.

Arthur sighed. "I suppose I did say I'd tell you."

"Did you have anything else planned for tonight?"

"No, I suppose not. Eames is off hunting tonight." Ah. That explained it. Arthur must have fed off of him. He stroked Ariadne's arm gently. "It was a little over fifty years ago, I think. Just after the world war. Saito had survived it, of course. He was well protected, had plenty of human retainers to protect the court from harm. Kimiko was one of them. She was one of his favorite mistresses, actually."

"She was human," Ariadne guessed.

"Yes, she was. Very devoted to him, and initially very honored to be offered to Saito's guests."

"You and Eames."

"We were traveling a lot then. The war fucked everything up out here. No place was safe, really, and a lot of our other boltholes were raided."

"The two of you have been together a long time, then?"

"Oh... Eighty years maybe? You start counting in decades after a while. Individual years are usually fuzzy," Arthur said vaguely. Ariadne suspected he was lying about that, since he seemed very sharp about details most of the time. "I don't think anyone else would put up with either of us, and it helps the time pass."

"Was Kimiko okay with that?"

Arthur smiled against the top of her head. "She was honored. Geishas want to provide company, after all. She really did enjoy being with us."

"But?"

"We, uh, kinda left Tokyo suddenly and took her with us. Maybe not the most brilliant plan, but we all thought we were in love."

"She's the one that walked into the sun, isn't she?"

Arthur sighed and nodded. "I turned her, and to her it meant more than we thought it would. She saw it as binding us together as tightly as a marriage. It was sacred. So even though it had been fine with the three of us together before that, she couldn't do it afterward. And she couldn't tolerate Eames being upset. She couldn't ask him to leave. She couldn't ask me to make him leave. So she left me a note and watched the sun come up instead."

Ariadne thought of saying she was sorry, but she felt hollow inside. Maybe this was where their callousness stemmed from. "I'm sorry," she said anyway. It was what she would have said if she was still capable of feeling anything.

"We won't make that same mistake again."

"What do you mean?"

"Turning you won't be a solitary action. We'll both be involved."

"I don't want it."

"I know. That might change someday," Arthur said patiently.

"No, I don't think it will."

"Time will tell," he murmured against her hair. "I can be patient. I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been around a very, very long time. That gives you perspective."

"How long are you talking about?" she asked, pulling back to look at him curiously. "You make it sound like forever."

"It feels like it sometimes," Arthur replied with a wry smile. He stood up and extended a hand. "Come on, let's go back inside for a while."

"How about we go somewhere else?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but here. I've been trapped here for six weeks."

Arthur considered that, and nodded slowly. "I know just the place."

It turned out to be a small restaurant in a small town that was in the opposite direction from where Ariadne had been living. It was quiet, with very few people, and Arthur ordered a simple fish dish for himself and let her order whatever she wanted. Ariadne wasn't quite interested in food, so had the soup of the day. "It's nice here," she said, feeling almost silly.

"It's like nothing's changed for a hundred years."

Ariadne frowned at him. "How old are you?"

Arthur smiled in response. "I'm robbing the cradle. Isn't that good enough?"

"I have no perspective for what you're talking about."

"Does there really have to be?"

"Yes. It's annoying when you make it sound like you've actually been through history."

"I have," Arthur said with a shrug. "And one of the first things you figure out in this kind of life is that there's always someone out there that thinks killing an older vampire will give them a reputation for being tough."

Ariadne frowned. "Does it?"

"Sometimes. It really depends on who the target is."

"You're still avoiding my question."

"So I am," Arthur returned with a smile.

"Why?"

"I already seem completely alien to you. Why would I want to add to that impression?" he asked in arch tones.

"Why me?" Ariadne asked softly, putting her soup spoon down. "Seriously this time. Why are you keeping me? You could've killed me."

"Still could," Arthur replied with a nod, spearing a piece of fish. He looked up at her with a serious expression. "Still will, truth be told. Turning you will kill you."

"I told you. I don't want that."

There was something unreadable in his expression. "I know. Things change. When they do, we'll be ready."

"How can you be so certain?" she asked, leaning back to look at him with a disgusted expression.

"I've been around long enough to know when to trust my instincts. You know I heard you that day. You're smart and skilled, and _angry_ about being shut out of things. You hate waiting for things to happen. You want to be in the thick of things." Arthur leaned forward, a smile creeping across his face. "You'll be curious about this. You'll want to know how it works in more than just theory. You'll want to know what it's like first hand."

"I know all that already."

"It's still theory for you right now. The practical application is always different."

"You're vile."

"Quite possibly," Arthur said with an agreeable nod, settling back into his neutral position. "So it's a scary thought that I'm the least of your worries out there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Eames and I travel and pretty much want to be left alone. We don't get involved in politics or wars or things like that. Some of the others thrive on that. It's all they live for, and they stir up trouble like Eris."

"Eris?"

"Greek goddess of discord," Arthur said with a smile. "Don't you read the classics?"

Ariadne lofted an eyebrow at him. "My education was interrupted."

"Pity. I'm sure we could get you some books to occupy the daytime hours. Do you read Greek?"

"No."

"So French or English should be okay?"

"How many languages do you speak, then?" Ariadne asked, exasperated.

"A lot," Arthur replied with a laugh. "That takes up a lot of time to do it right, you know. Especially tonal languages. We get bored easily."

"So Eames knows a lot of languages, too?"

"It was practically a necessity in his former line of work," Arthur replied with a shrug. He could see that there were questions bubbling up to the surface in Ariadne's mind, and smiled. She was too curious for her own good in some ways. "Save the questions for him, Ariadne. Finish your soup and we'll head back."

"What if I don't want to go back?" she asked quietly. "What if I run? What if I tell the waiter you're keeping me hostage?"

"Try it," Arthur said with a careless shrug. "We'll get you back, we'll take care of the waiter and whatever other witnesses there were."

"Take care of?" Ariadne asked faintly.

Arthur merely smiled serenely at her, letting her think the worst as he finished his dinner. He signaled the waiter for the check. "Unless you wanted something else?" he asked Ariadne, a slight smirk to his lips.

She flushed and finished her soup. "No, I'm fine."

"Of course you are," Arthur said easily, nodding at the waiter. "Then after this, we'll go home."

The soup felt like lead in her gut. _Home._ She didn't even know where that was anymore.

***

Eames ran the brush through Ariadne's hair gently. "He's not a bad sort, you know," he said in a quiet voice. "He's rather a stick in the mud, really. If not for me, the bloke would never have any fun at all."

"Is this fun, then?"

"What? Being with you? Well, yeah." He leaned forward where they were sitting on the bed and kissed the bare curve of shoulder above the towel wrapped around her. She had taken a shower, and when she got out, Arthur was gone and Eames was offering to brush her hair. Eames smiled against her shoulder. "I _like_ you. Not as a plaything, I mean. As an actual person. It's kind of nice."

There was a note of shyness in his voice, an odd vulnerability Ariadne didn't think she would have heard. "Why is that surprising?"

He leaned back and began brushing her hair again. "Well... Long, sad story, really. Most are, if you think of it. How often do you think the happy folk want to die and live forever?"

"You wanted this?" Ariadne asked, unable to keep herself from blurting out the question.

Eames laughed. "Well, I might've had second thoughts if I'd understood completely at the time. But it was the Gay Nineties, the alcohol was flowing and the jobs were good. It was all I cared about at the time."

"The what?"

"It's what they called the 1890's in America, love," Eames said, smile obvious in his voice. "A time of prosperity and change on both sides of the pond. I was in London first. Quite a good forger, if I do say so myself. The go-to person if you wanted a new will, bank vaults opened, that sort of thing. I met Vittorine that way, actually. She bought and paid for my time to impersonate the son of a magnate to get into his vault in New York. Money was good, she paid for the travel. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Ariadne found herself smiling in spite of herself. "And?"

"And what? I got that vault open, she got the goods and squirreled it away somewhere and we had fantastic sex." Eames laughed. "Mine is actually not a horror story. I liked her, she liked me. We stayed together a short while before she popped the question." Ariadne laughed at him, then stopped when she realized what she was doing. Eames leaned forward and kissed her shoulder. "Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time. We separated during World War II. I wanted to stay out of sight, she didn't. So Arthur and I took off."

"So... The two of you knew each other ever since you were made?"

"He knew Vittorine. She's a party girl. I daresay she knows _everybody,_ and she's possibly one of the few that could travel through Fischer's or Saito's territories without pissing anybody off. Unlike us," Eames added with a laugh. He started brushing her hair again.

"Is he a lot older than you, then?"

"Fishing for information about our beloved Arthur?" Eames teased. "Just ask him."

"I tried. He won't answer."

"He gets touchy about things sometimes. It wasn't a happy time for him, I know that much," Eames said, a measure of caution in his tone. "He hasn't explained the details and I haven't asked. I don't need to know. Why do you?"

Ariadne looked down at her tangled fingers. "I don't know."

"Still figuring out if you should kill us or not?"

She jerked her head up abruptly. "What?"

"Oh, come now. Just because it's been a bit doesn't mean I've forgotten. You said you were going to kill us. You _dared_ us to stop you." Eames fell backward onto the bed and pulled her down with him, the towel falling open. "If you'll recall, I told you to have at it."

Ariadne looked over at his saucy grin and sat up. She moved to straddle him, ignoring her undressed state. "You'd like that, I'd bet."

"Oh, yes," Eames said, pupils blown wide with lust. "Show me what you've got, little one."

Her breath caught in her chest; it was still almost uncomfortable to be looked at like that. She wasn't used to thinking of herself as beautiful or someone _desired_ that way. She ran her hands along his chest slowly. "Undo the buttons," she said, locking eyes with his. Eames grinned up at her and did so slowly, teasingly. Ariadne let her hands trail down to his waist and attacked the button and zipper to his slacks. He made a contented growling noise, and Ariadne moved her hands back up his chest, pushing the sides of his shirt apart. She ran her fingernails lightly along his bared skin. "You like when I do this," she commented.

Eames caught her hand lightly in one of his and brought it to his lips. "I like _sex,_ Ariadne. Everything you do is wonderful."

A slow flush crept across her cheeks, which was fascinating given the wonderfully erotic things they've already done together. He eagerly lifted his hips to allow her to strip him down to his socks, and he watched her curves as she moved. There was an artlessness about her, an unconscious grace. She had classic features and slight curves so that she almost seemed boyish at times. But at others, she was very clearly a woman and Eames loved that about her. She was a bundle of contradictions, and he liked taking apart puzzles.

Ariadne took him into her mouth, kneeling beside him on the bed. Eames dragged one hand down to trace her folds and another to cup a breast and flick at the nipple. Ariadne made a soft, pleased noise deep in her throat. She rested her cheek almost directly against the lower part of his stomach, allowing her to run her tongue along the length of him. Eames hissed in pleasure and canted his hips up toward her mouth, silently asking for more. She grew moist under his fingertips, and he dragged one around to her clit. He stroked her as she sucked on him, and he moved fast and hard. She sucked in a breath and had to pull away to press her face against his stomach. Her breath came in pants as she started to tighten up, approaching an orgasm. "That's it, love," Eames crooned. "Come for me."

"I thought I was taking control of you," she gasped, but arched and made a keening sound as she came. Eames pulled her up closer so he could easily slide his fingers inside her slicked entrance, moving fast and hard. Ariadne grasped his cock in her hand, the tips of her fingers brushing against his balls. "Wasn't I supposed to show you a good time?" she panted.

"This is definitely a good time," Eames agreed, his own breath coming in fast pants. "You feel so goddamn good no matter how I have you."

Ariadne pressed her lips to the forearm of the hand at her breast. "Harder," she gasped, and he pulled at her nipple slightly. "Yeah, like that."

Eames curled his fingers inside her and brushed his thumb across her clit. "And here?"

"Definitely there," she gasped, arching into his touch and squeezing his cock slightly. The heel of her palm slid along the head before she shifted her grip. "More there," she groaned.

With a lascivious grin, he slid a third finger inside her. Ariadne threw her head back and groaned, hips rocking against his hand. She was getting close and it felt so damn good. It was easy enough to push aside thoughts that he was a vampire, that she should be killing him and not fucking him. She could think about that later.

"Fuck me hard, Ariadne," he groaned when she came, pulsing and slick around his fingers. "I need it now."

"You don't get it now," she answered breathlessly, giving him a tight squeeze.

Eames groaned and pushed his fingers further inside her. "When?" he asked, moving his hand rough and fast. His teeth were bared, fangs sharp, his eyes black and full of longing. He moved faster, harder, making her gasp and start to shift even more restlessly against him. "I want you now, Ariadne."

She came hard, clenching tight around him and nearly screaming at the pleasure that rocked through her. Heart beating wildly, she let her head fall forward. "Now is okay."

He laughed until she sank down on top of him, warm and slick and wonderful. She rocked against him slowly, her hands on his shoulders. He ran his own hands along her sides, then settled them on her hips. He held her with a tight grip, not too painful, not trying to spur her to move faster. Eames bit his lip, fangs bared, eyes fixed on her face as she rocked a little faster. It was devotion and wonder in his gaze, more than just lust. Ariadne bit her own lower lip to keep from groaning too loudly and sped up, chasing a spot that he was hitting just right. She could still hear her own little whimpering noises, her own little gasps. Eames moved his hands from her hips to cup her breasts and flick his thumbs over her nipples, and Ariadne gasped. She nodded, unable to say anything encouraging, and he kept at it. She moved harder, faster, eyes falling shut as she lost herself in the sensation.

Ariadne slowed down after she came hard, feeling as though she should have exploded. "I'm not done yet, darling," he said, rolling his hips beneath hers. He let his hands slide down to her backside and started a slow rhythm again. "Close by the end there, but it all just stopped."

"You are insatiable," she panted.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Eames teased.

"It's definitely _not_ a bad thing," Arthur said from the bedroom door. He was grinning, licking his lips in anticipation as he watched Ariadne turn and gasp in surprise. "I'm so glad I didn't really interrupt anything. It's beautiful to watch."

He came up closer and buried his face in the crook of Ariadne's neck. "Make him scream when he comes," he urged her, sliding his hands along her torso. He cupped her breasts and let his fingers slide across her peaked nipples.

"God, yes," Eames groaned, canting his hips up slightly. Ariadne moved against him, her own breath fractured and difficult to control. "Harder."

Ariadne moved faster and harder, Arthur behind her and pressing kisses to her neck. He pinched her nipples lightly, making her gasp and tighten, and it was just enough to make Eames come with a strangled shout, back arching up off the bed. Arthur slid a hand down to play with her clit until she came with a cry, twisting in his arms. "Fuck," Eames ground out. "Warn a bloke if you do that, will you?" He gently eased Ariadne off of him. "I'm sensitive as all hell right now."

Arthur chuckled. "What? You started without me."

"She started it," Eames whined playfully, pointing at Ariadne. "All enticing in her towel and having her wicked way with me. I'm innocent, I swear."

Arthur snorted and rubbed his hands along Ariadne's stomach. He made a contented humming noise and inhaled her scent deeply. "Up for a little more play, or are you all tired?"

"Definitely tired."

"Spoil sport," Arthur teased, nipping at her earlobe. She could feel the smile in his lips against her cheek and didn't quite understand why she cared if he liked her or not. "Anything you want to do tonight?"

"Other than us, I hope," Eames supplied helpfully from his sprawled position on the bed. He grinned up at them before tucking his hands under his head. "Well, that's fun, too. I won't lie. But I'm starting to feel the itch to do something out and about."

"Well, we've been here since winter. Ari's been with us for a while now," Arthur murmured, lips by her cheek.

"Two months?" Ariadne guessed, not having any sense of time any longer.

"Almost three, I think," Arthur murmured.

"He'd know. I leave it to him to remember names and dates and shite like that. I'm the one looking for fun places."

"Want to run to Marseille?" Arthur asked, arms still wound around Ariadne. She was somewhat disturbed by how comfortable his embrace felt.

"Is someone we know down there?" Eames asked, an edge of suspicion in his tone.

"Actually, no. I did call Vittorine last night, you know. She's happy in Milan right now. She would rather we came to _her_ if we want to see her."

"She's screwing someone, is she?" Eames asked, eyebrow raised.

Arthur snorted. "It's _Vittorine._ When _isn't_ she with someone?"

"Good point."

"What's in Marseille?" Ariadne asked, curious.

"Dunno. But it's relatively close, we haven't been there in a few years and we've never gone there with you." Arthur licked a stripe along her throat. "Might be fun."

"I guess..." Ariadne began uncertainly.

"Then we're set. You clean up again, and we'll set out for Marseille. We could probably be there in about two hours. Maybe we can crash there for an evening or two and then head back here," Arthur said, letting go of Ariadne. Blood was starting to trail down the inside of her thigh, and he watched her hurry to the bathroom to wash up. Arthur looked over at Eames, still sprawled across the bed. "What do you think? Clubs? Beach?"

"Both, definitely," Eames said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "It's not far away from Monaco, either... Hey, Ariadne! Do you know how to play baccarat?"

"No," she called back from the bathroom.

He rubbed his hands together comically. "Perfect! I'll teach you."

***  
***


	6. Nothing Is As It Seems

In Marseille, they went to museums that were still open after sunset, parks and all of the architectural sites of interests. They visited clubs and bars, and Ariadne was so distracted by the newness of the place that she didn't always track when Arthur or Eames disappeared for a while. They always returned warm and rosy, and she was starting to suspect that perhaps she was being duped. Maybe the trip was less to show her the city and more to get out of the countryside. Cities were like a buffet, and she was starting to feel stupid.

"Darling," Eames commented when he had coaxed the source of her disquiet from her. "Do you really believe we need to kill everyone we drink from?"

Ariadne frowned. "Don't you?"

"I think we measured it out once. A pint every few days is the minimum for survival. Draining someone dry can leave you flush for a week if you do nothing, but doing a lot of fancy tricks will definitely use it up faster. It's a simple question of replacing what you metabolize." He ran a finger along her jawline. "A place like this, it's easy enough to get a little bit here, a little bit there, and no one gets hurt."

"Is that how you justify it?"

"Justification is killing the idiots stalking the alleys that would slit your throat for the contents of your wallet," Eames told her flatly. "I've done that, too."

Arthur had returned to their hotel room at about that point. "Are we discussing the finer points of discretionary dining?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

"How can you just joke about it? People get hurt!"

He was in front of her in an instant. "Have we hurt you, Ariadne? Do you feel threatened by something we've done to you?"

Ariadne had backed up a step, crashing into Eames, who had been standing behind her. "When _don't_ I feel threatened?"

Arthur cupped her face in her hands. "We fuck you and we fuck with you, to be sure. But we've been honest about our intentions the entire time."

There was a low, embarrassed flush in her cheeks at his candid words. "It's something hanging over me all the time."

"You see the reality of things, but your fear is getting the better of you. Yes, we can kill people if we're hungry enough. Yes, vampires can get sloppy. Those tend to be weeded out and killed by hunters. Good riddance to those that can't take care of themselves, I say." His hands trailed down the side of her throat until they rested on her shoulders. Eames grasped her waist when she swayed slightly. "We've been around a long time, and we would never allow you to get sloppy when it came down to that kind of thing."

Eames nuzzled her neck lightly, running the edge of a fang along her skin. "See? Not hurting you at all here."

"It's a question of control."

"And you're in control all the time?" Ariadne asked in a challenging tone.

Arthur smiled, and there was nothing warm or inviting about it. "You'd hate to see me out of control."

"You're scaring her, asshole," Eames warned, his lips gentle on Ariadne's neck. He could feel the slight tremors rolling through her.

Arthur kissed the top of her head gently. "You're determined to think the worst of me, Ariadne," he said quietly, lips still hovering by her forehead. "I can accept that and I can take it. But it's getting pretty damn tiring." He pulled back and placed a finger by the side of her jaw. "That's not a threat," he said in a quiet voice. "It's merely a fact. It's tiring to keep trying to prove I'm not out to destroy you when you're determined never to believe it."

"You keep talking about turning me. That'll destroy me."

"It didn't destroy us."

"I'm not you," Ariadne countered, defiance in her tone.

There was the ghost of a smile on his lips. "No, you're not. Thank god for that." Before Ariadne could ask him what he meant by that, he backed up and had a huge grin on his face. "I've made arrangements to visit Monaco in three days. Let's go out and explore a bit."

"What's in Monaco?"

"Casinos," Eames murmured against her neck. "That's why I've been teaching you all the good games to play. We'll go in, dazzle the moneyed folk and have fun at the tables."

"I don't..."

"I have money," Arthur replied easily, cutting off her protest. "Long term investments and the like. I've even set up a few accounts for Eames over the years. Two days ago I filed paperwork on your behalf at one of the friendlier banks so that you'll have an account as well."

"See? He's practical," Eames said with a smile.

Ariadne felt pinned between the two of them. "Friendlier banks?"

"There are some that can cater to our... eccentricities." Arthur smiled. "You know, there are actual skin conditions mortals have where they can't stand sunlight? Or blood dyscrasias where sunlight is actually damaging? They're very helpful in catering to those kinds of disabilities."

Somehow, Ariadne wasn't surprised. How else could they be in hiding for so long? How else could they survive and be called mere myth?

"Come on, Ariadne." Arthur backed up and held out his hand to her. "Let's go out for the evening. There are still plenty of places we haven't seen yet."

Hesitantly, Ariadne took his hand. Eames grasped her other one and gave her a supportive squeeze. "It'll be fun, love," he said with a smile. "You'll see."

They were walking down an alley toward a dance club later when Arthur muttered a low curse in a language she didn't recognize. Eames merely sighed, and Ariadne looked at the two of them in confusion. "What is it?" she asked, brows furrowed.

"You remember me," came a voice in front of them. It was feminine, but pitched low and almost menacing. The light was low in the alley, and they were perhaps twenty feet from its exit into the street across from the club. The voice's owner stepped into the light at the end of the alley, and Ariadne could see that it was a woman of average height with dark, curling hair piled on top of her head. She had olive skin and dark almond shaped eyes that stared directly at them. The red slash of a mouth on her face was twisted into a mean smile. She was dressed in business casual wear, with flats on her feet. Ariadne would have found her more at home in an office than across the street from a club.

"Sophie, leave us alone," Arthur said firmly.

"Arturo, aren't you going to share your little pet?"

Ariadne felt Eames' arm tighten around her waist a fraction, and she realized that Arthur had positioned himself so that he was between Sophie and Ariadne, subtly in the way of Sophie's line of sight. Sophie could probably tell she was growing afraid of the situation.

Arthur merely crossed his arms over his chest. "Get out of here, Sophie."

Sophie was fast, rushing toward them. Arthur immediately had her by the neck in a firm grip, face impassive. "You always used to share, Arturo."

"No, you always used to take. There's a difference," Arthur replied calmly. "I forgave you once, and you were supposed to stay away. Why are you here?"

Sophie smiled and clasped her hands around Arthur's wrist for balance as he lifted her off of the ground easily. "Don't you miss me?"

"No."

The smile slid off of her face. "Gregor said he saw you here. It's been long enough, Arturo..."

"No, it hasn't," Arthur replied coldly. "Out of respect for Gregor, I left you alone. Cross me again, and I won't be so nice."

Sophie growled at him, her fangs bared and eyes turning black with rage. "You were supposed to be _mine."_

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Sophie," he replied blandly. "Besides, you were always so focused on Antonio and Roberto and Federico. Go play your games with them."

"They're _dead,"_ Sophie hissed. She dug her nails into Arthur's wrist, drawing blood.

Arthur merely gave her a hard gaze. "So?"

"You're all that's left of that little circle."

"I was never part of it, Sophie." He gave her a little shake, and Ariadne clearly heard a crack in her neck. She fell limp in Arthur's hand, and he let go of her, letting her slump to the ground in the alley. Ariadne gasped and shrank back into Eames. "This is your last warning. Don't cross me, Sophie, or you'll really be hurt."

Ariadne's eyes grew large as Sophie's neck seemed to shift back into place. She gave a snarl of pain and bared her fangs at Arthur but made no move to get up yet. He extended his arm to Ariadne in a gallant gesture, some kind of warning in his eyes. Ariadne grasped it with a shaky hand, grateful for Eames' steadying grip. They went out of the alleyway and toward the club; Ariadne felt much safer in the middle of the crowd. She saw Sophie glare balefully after them before running off in the opposite direction.

"What was that all about?"

"She's a stalker," Arthur said with a sigh. "Sorry about that. She's... not entirely balanced."

Eames snorted. "Nice way with words, there, Arthur."

Ariadne was nearly shaking. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I used to be friends with her sire," Arthur said, jaw set. "She liked collecting conquests, and I refused to be one. Hence, the stalking."

"He just looks that much more enticing," Eames murmured against Ariadne's ear. He licked it impulsively. "I met her once. Barking mad, that one. The years haven't helped in that regard."

"Is she dangerous?"

"As dangerous as any one of us," Arthur said in a quiet tone. "We're not going anywhere, Ariadne. We'll never leave you."

It was more than a promise; he said it like it was a statement of fact. Somehow, it was almost comforting.

***

Ariadne came awake with a gasp, just managing not to scream. Heart pounding, she disentangled herself from Arthur and Eames and hurried to the bathroom, locking herself in. She climbed into the tub and set the water to running in shower mode, unmindful of the nightgown she was wearing. They tended to like her wearing these filmy, fragile things, when she was used to wearing a camisole and underwear to bed. It was kind of old fashioned of them, and nice some of the time. This was not one of those times.

There was a knock on the door that made her gasp in surprise. "What is it?" she asked, wiping at her eyes even though the shower water easily hid the tears in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Eames asked in concern.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Can we come in?" Arthur asked.

"No. I'll be fine."

"You're not fine, love. Tell us."

"I'm _fine,"_ Ariadne insisted stubbornly. "Just let it go."

"No," Arthur said, his voice firm. "We're worried about you."

 _Fuck you, I don't care,_ Ariadne wanted to say, though she kept her mouth shut. A choked sob escaped her, and she heard Eames dimly say "Fucking hell, we need to get in there!" to Arthur on the other side of the door. She looked up as Arthur twisted the knob hard enough to break it, and the door swung open. Both of the vampires tumbled into the bathroom and stood there dumbly at the sight of her in the shower.

They knelt beside her on the other side of the tub, looking at how she was curled in on herself, arms holding her knees tight to her chest. Her hair was plastered to her head, and her eyes were red and raw. "You had a nightmare," Eames started in a quiet tone. He reached in to touch her hand, and she flinched away. "What was it?"

"You've had a lot of nightmares over the past few weeks," Arthur began, voice neutral. "It was worse in the past week. Moving on to Monaco didn't help, did it?" he asked gently.

"Tell us what you dreamed, love," Eames asked softly. "Even if it doesn't make sense, it terrified you."

"I need to get out of here," she muttered, starting to shake. "I need to get _out."_

Arthur shut off the water. "Come on, let's get you dried off."

Ariadne was as pliant as a doll in their hands. It might have been fun in a different kind of situation, but Arthur could barely keep the frown off of his face. She was fragile in some ways, and he had forgotten that. "Was it about Sophie?" he asked quietly, kneeling in front of her as he toweled off her legs. She flinched, but he felt no sense at triumph at guessing correctly. "She doesn't matter, Ariadne."

Eames toweled off her chest and back, then gently rubbed at her hair. "What did you dream of? We can help."

She shook as another sob escaped her chest. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't make sense. I shouldn't fucking care!" she finally burst out.

Arthur stood and ran his hand along her bare back. "What happened?" he asked quietly, carefully.

"It was her in the dream, killing my parents and sister. It wasn't that guy anymore, not like it was in all the other nightmares. She was the one standing there, and then when I came forward to stake her, they weren't on the floor. You both were." Ariadne dissolved into tears and collapsed into their arms. "I shouldn't fucking care." She flailed, striking at them ineffectually. "I hate you. I don't care. I don't care. _I don't care,"_ she sobbed.

Not saying a word, the two vampires simply cradled her. "We're not going anywhere," Arthur said quietly, stroking her hair. "We're stronger than that, more careful about that kind of thing. You won't lose us, Ariadne. You can't. We're always going to be with you." He bit into his wrist and offered it to her. "Here. Proof I'm still alive."

She seized his wrist and drank deeply, hearing him hiss slightly at the sensation of it. Eames stroked her back, and when she was finished with Arthur's wrist, he offered his own. Ariadne drank deeply from him as well, bent over to keep from spilling a single drop. Afterward, Eames pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her mouth tenderly as Arthur nuzzled her neck. "I love you," he whispered against her mouth. "As much as I love Arthur or Vittorine."

That was a terrifying concept, and Ariadne stiffened as Arthur slid his fangs into her neck to drink from her. Eames moved to drink from the other side of her neck as Arthur released her, and Ariadne simply held on, an arm slung around each man's shoulders. She whimpered softly and clung to them even after they let go of her. "Come to bed," Arthur whispered. "It's going to be all right, Ariadne, I promise."

"How can you promise me that? You don't know that. You don't know anything. I could kill you right now and you won't be here anymore."

Eames picked her up gently in his arms and carried her over to the bed. He stretched out beside her and Arthur climbed into the bed on her other side. Ariadne grasped Eames' shirt in one fist as he leaned down to kiss her. "Why are you so calm? I could kill you, too. I should. I should kill you both."

"If you do, you do," he murmured, then bent down to kiss her neck. Arthur was already on her other side, hand on her stomach and lips on her shoulder. "We told you to try, remember?"

Ariadne blinked back tears. "Why are you so calm about it?"

"Death isn't the end, Ariadne," Arthur said quietly. "Aren't we proof of that?"

"You can still die," Ariadne insisted. "I can still kill you."

Arthur slid his hand down from her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. Eames moved to take a breast into his mouth, sucking gently. Ariadne gasped at the contact, arching into their touch. "Sh," Arthur whispered, curling up around her. "Stop worrying about it. It's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," she whimpered, grasping hold of his arm. "You don't."

"Are you so certain it won't be?" Arthur countered.

"Everybody dies. Everybody goes away," she gasped, feeling him curl his fingers inside her. "You're not actually going to live forever."

"We're going to give it a good try," he replied, hand moving steadily between her legs. "We've lasted this long."

"I found you. I almost killed Eames."

"We let you find us. We wanted you to find us. And you didn't actually kill him."

Eames teased her nipple with the side of his fang before letting her breast go. He leaned on one arm beside her and teased her breast with the fingers of his other hand. "Does this mean you'd miss me, poppet? You'd actually miss us if you killed us?"

Ariadne whimpered and let her eyes fall shut, tears falling out of the corners. "I don't know."

Eames swooped down to kiss her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. He cut his tongue on his fang, letting a splash of blood fall into her mouth. She made a soft despairing noise as she swallowed his blood, her tongue sliding softly against his. He tangled his fingers in her hair and she grasped his shoulders tightly as she came with a soft cry.

"I think you'd miss us," Arthur said softly, his hand still moving at the same rhythm. "I think that's why you're so upset. It's not just that you're scared Sophie would kill us first. You're upset that you actually care about us. You _don't_ want to kill us, do you?" His voice was soft and lulling by her ear, breath deceptively warm against her. "Maybe you do care about us, even just a little."

Ariadne made a soft mewling sound into Eames' mouth as she twisted between them restlessly. Eames broke the kiss and hovered over her. "It's all right if you do. Not all vampires are completely evil. I for one am only a little bit evil." He grinned playfully at her, and Ariadne let out a startled bark of laughter. "God, I wanna be inside you. I want to feel you," he whispered in a husky tone against her ear. "I want to feel you when you come, I want to hear you call my name. I want to taste you, want to know you love how I make you come. Do you want that, Ariadne? Do you want it?"

"Yes," she whimpered, almost ashamed.

"And you want Arthur too, don't you? You like how he is inside you? How he makes you come?" Eames licked her ear as she arched against Arthur's touch. "Tell us how much you like it. Tell us what you want."

"Oh god," Ariadne groaned, writhing beneath them as she was approaching another orgasm. "I want... I want..."

"Yes?" Arthur prompted.

"Inside me. Please, now, someone, please..."

Eames pulled her on top of him after kicking off his pants. Ariadne sank down on top of him with a groan and came within a few strokes. Arthur shucked off his clothes and slid his slick fingers against her backside. She made a soft whimpering sound and let her eyes fall shut at the sensation. Eames cupped her breasts, helping to support her as she rode him hard. Arthur worked her open and then thrust inside her, making her mewl at the feel of them both inside of her. "Fuck," Arthur groaned, his hands on her hips with a tight, punishing grip. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, the scent of her all around him. "God, this," he groaned. He slammed into her as she pitched her hips forward into Eames, and Ariadne nearly screamed in pleasure. Eames groaned and came as she tightened, then flicked his thumb against her clit a few times to make her come again. "Ariadne," Arthur whispered, dragging his teeth against her bare skin. His hands on her hips were tight enough to bruise, and he came with a groan.

They sagged against each other, Ariadne making soft snuffling noises. It wasn't quite crying and was more than just trying to catch her breath. Eames cradled the back of her head in his large hands, turning her to face him. Her expression was lost and vulnerable, as if she couldn't quite figure out what she should do next. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. "No deciding anything when you're upset, poppet. That's the best piece of advice I can give you."

"Make me forget," she whispered. "I want to forget the past year."

"But that's what led you to us," Arthur murmured against the back of her neck. "It's part of who you are."

"I don't want to be me anymore," she said abruptly, disentangling herself from them. She took a look at the blood dribbling down her leg and fled to the bathroom.

Both vampires sighed and watched her shut the door as best as she could. Eames poked Arthur in the arm. "You," he began sternly, "need to shut the fuck up."

Arthur flopped backwards. "Fuck."

"That _was_ the idea, genius. You're such an idiot sometimes, you know that?"

Arthur covered his face with his arm. "Shut up, Eames. You're not helping."

"Makes me wonder how you survived without me, it does." He pushed himself up and off the bed. "Try not to do anything else stupid, will you?"

Sighing, he tracked Eames as far as the bathroom before flopping backwards again. It hadn't been his best moment, that was for sure. He went over to the bathroom. Eames had Ariadne in his arms, and she was crying helplessly. Arthur simply wrapped his arms around the both of them, tucking his head close to hers. "I'm sorry, Ariadne."

She sniffled and kept her eyes shut. "I hate you both," she insisted.

"I know," he told her in an even tone. "Who do you want to be, if not yourself?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

"Hey. None of this maudlin shite, yes?" Eames urged. "It's just us here, nobody special, and we don't have to think of anything bad. Right? Right."

"I hate you, too, you know," she sniffed.

"Not as much as him, though, right?" he replied in a wheedling tone. It had the desired effect of making her laugh a little. "C'mon. How about we all sleep a bit, then go out once the sun goes down? There's nothing quite like a casino to help you pretend to be someone else for a while."

Ariadne disentangled herself with a nod. "Okay."

Arthur slid an arm around her waist as she moved to leave and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "We'll always be here for you if you need us."

She didn't meet his eyes, but nodded. "Okay."

"You have the emotional subtlety of a brick sometimes," Eames told Arthur.

He rolled his eyes in response. "You come on like a steamroller, so that's not any better."

"Fuck you, too, darling," Eames replied with a grin. "I'm going to cuddle with our lover."

 _Our lover._ Arthur liked the sound of that. He only hoped that Ariadne agreed with the assessment.

***  
***


	7. Lay Me To Sleep

"I don't think we should go back just yet."

Eames looked over at Arthur from where they were lounging beside the hotel pool. Ariadne was swimming, petite frame lithe as it moved gracefully through the water. "Why?"

"We like the house, but it probably holds bad memories for her."

"Can't avoid it forever. Unless you'd rather uproot us all and head for a new city."

"I've been thinking of doing that," Arthur commented. He had a cell phone in his hands; it had originally been Ariadne's, though there were no indications of which contact names were hunters or not. She hadn't purged its memory; contact numbers still remained for Mom, Dad, Dad Office and Home, which wasn't the loft she had been staying in. He could only guess that recent numbers might be hunters, but she had changed her settings so that there was no call log saved into the phone's memory.

"What are you doing with that?" Eames asked, snatching it from him. "I thought you wanted to get rid of it."

"I thought it might be useful. Phone numbers, something like that."

"God. Look at you!"

"What?"

"Mooning over her phone like a lovesick puppy. And you make fun of _me_ for that shite?" Eames asked with a laugh, dangling the phone just outside of Arthur's reach. He laughed as Arthur snatched it from him. "You could always just _tell_ her."

"She doesn't want to hear it."

"So? I've told her a dozen times by now." Eames tucked his hands behind his head as he lounged on the chaise. "She's gotten used to hearing it."

"It's still unwanted, you prick."

"What? I think that's one of my more flattering features," Eames replied with an easy grin. "She certainly appreciates it as much as you do."

Arthur thought about backhanding Eames, but decided against it. That would be messy, as he was likely going to split Eames' lips over his teeth again, and Eames would interpret it as foreplay. They were leaving Monaco in a few days, and he would rather not be thrown out of their current hotel. "Shut up, Eames."

"Ooh. So unoriginal," Eames taunted. He leered playfully at Arthur. "You are definitely distracted by our luscious little pet."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Eames? Honestly. Shut it."

Eames laughed and watched Ariadne swim. "You called someone, didn't you?" he asked after a moment. "Phone's still charged and paid for."

"Miles," Arthur admitted after a moment.

Eames lofted an eyebrow at Arthur. "I thought you planned to avoid all that."

"Oh, I do. But I figured an inquiry into what happened about a year ago wouldn't hurt."

"Lovesick bastard."

"Shut up."

Ariadne slowed as she approached the end of the pool and slowly hauled herself up and out. She flashed the two of them a wan smile, then moved to grab a few towels to dry off. Eames and Arthur both tracked her movements. "What did he have to say?"

"I asked about fledglings in his territory. It's a fairly broad question, you know."

"Fucker, you know more than that."

"Well, I did get into specifics."

"Ah. There we are with the specificity. And?"

"And what? Miles hadn't gotten back to me yet."

"Huh. It's not as if there are really _that_ many fledglings, are there?"

"Officially or unofficially?" Arthur asked in arch tones.

"Good point," Eames replied with a nod. "Why are you looking, really?"

"She needs closure."

"And you need to grow a sack and just tell her, Arthur. Otherwise, she'll think you're still fucking with her."

"Aren't we?"

"You know what I mean, arsehole." Eames got up from the chaise as Ariadne approached. "Ah, and you look utterly magnificent in that cute little bikini," he said with a charming smile, sliding his hands around her waist. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Quite a lot of swimming."

"It's good to clear my head a little bit."

Eames extended his arm in a gallant gesture, and she took it delicately. "Shall we head back up to the room, then?"

"You two go on up," Arthur said, sitting up. "I think I'll try that. A few laps might do me some good." He smiled at Ariadne, who seemed almost shy while looking at him. "I'll be up in a little bit. I'll be in time for dinner."

Eames shrugged and escorted Ariadne upstairs; he figured Arthur might want to call Miles again or some kind of rot like that. He wasn't usually a demonstrative kind of fellow, and he was going farther with Ariadne than he had with anyone else Eames had ever seen. "Doing all right, love?" he asked her as he shut the door to their room behind him.

Ariadne shrugged and stepped out of the bikini. There was no point in being shy with either of the two vampires, really. "Best that can be expected, I guess."

He slid his hands along her arms. "What had you wanted out of life, then? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

Her lips twisted into a caricature of a smile. "I still haven't."

"Then we're in good company," he replied with a genuine smile. "But what had you wanted?"

"It doesn't matter now."

"Sure it does."

She twisted out of his loose grip and headed to the dresser to pick out clothes. "No, it doesn't. I was a liberal arts major at the university. That just means I decided fuck-all about my future. I never even got a chance to finish the degree. I was two months from graduation when..."

Eames came up behind her and slid his hands down her torso, fingers brushing against her flat belly. "I'm sorry, love. I really am."

"It doesn't matter now," she muttered, eyes sliding shut. "That's what Arthur says, right?"

"It matters," Eames replied softly. "It's not what Arthur says, you know that. He can't erase the past for you, no matter how much he might want to." He pressed his lips down against the curve of her neck. "Was there anything you did want? Anything we could still give you?"

She turned in the circle of his arms, her expression lost. "I wanted kids and a family and to be happy. You can't give me those things."

Eames seemed almost stricken as he cupped her face in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. We both are, aren't we?"

He kissed her, trying to erase the bitterness of her tone. She was still against him, impassive even as his tongue slid across hers. He pulled back, sadness in his eyes as he clasped her face in his large eyes. "Ariadne. I can't give you a child and neither can Arthur. Was it a baby you really wanted or a family of your own?"

"It's the same thing," Ariadne had said, shaking her head as she tried to pull away.

"No, it's not. Family isn't only made of blood." There was an intensity in his gaze that Ariadne hadn't let herself see before. "I feel alone when I don't see you. There's an emptiness I didn't know I had until I got to know you. That's family, too."

"Eames..."

"Arthur can't bring himself to say the words. He's lost too much over time. Trust me when I say that he loves you, too, Ariadne. We'd be your family. We'd be with you forever if you'd let us."

"People don't promise to kill their family members," Ariadne replied tartly.

"Sure they do. I did that all the time with my uncle, that rotter. Dead several times over now, but he used to take a switch to my back and beat me bloody and senseless. So of course I promised to kill him at least a dozen times over."

"And?"

"I did," Eames replied with a shrug. "He was a drunk and easy to kill. Just tripped him and he tumbled down the stairs." Eames slid his arms around her. "It was a long time ago, poppet. He wasn't a good man. Then again, neither was I."

"Eames..."

"I'm still not, if you think about it," Eames continued, sliding his hands along the curve of her back until he reached the rise of her buttocks. "But goodness is overrated. Goodness dies. It fades, it gets corrupted, it gives up. Better to stick to the fence, I say. Middle of the road lasts forever."

"Stop it," Ariadne whispered, pushing at his chest ineffectually. "Stop trying to convince me to stay with the two of you."

"We want you to stay," Eames murmured. He pulled her flush against him. "Stay with us, Ariadne. Be part of us."

"I..." Ariadne began weakly, turning away from his intense gaze.

"Sleep on it," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her neck. "Don't decide just this minute. But think on it. We want you to stay."

"You were bored, you said."

"I was also fucking with you, love," Eames murmured, scraping her skin lightly with his teeth. She shivered in his embrace. "I've been honest recently, though."

Whatever she would have said was swallowed up in the gasp she made as he slid his fangs into her carotid artery. Ariadne clung to him, and Eames cupped his hands around her buttocks, lifting her up. He turned and moved so that she was propped up against the wall. After he licked the wound shut, he continued to kiss and lick the skin. She made a soft whimpering sound deep in her throat, and kept her eyes shut as he kissed her neck.

The door opened and Arthur came inside the room. He approached them slowly, running a hand along Eames' shoulders. He pressed his lips against Ariadne's temple, making her remember Eames' words about him. "Come to bed, both of you," Arthur murmured.

Ariadne accepted this as her reality. They were tangled on the bed, their teeth in her neck as they lapped at her blood. Arthur pressed his wrist to her mouth after biting open an artery, and she swallowed it down as Eames spread her thighs and began to lick at her folds. Ariadne caught Arthur's gaze as she drank from him, his forearm clutched desperately in her hands. Trembling, Ariadne tilted her head up and accepted his kiss.

Eames slid his fingers inside her slicked heat, thumb at her clit. She shifted position to make it easier for him to slide his fingers inside of her. "I want to taste you," he rasped, moving his fingers inside of her. "I love how you taste." Ariadne whimpered, tightening around his fingers.

"More," Arthur whispered softly, his eyes locked to Ariadne's. "She needs more."

Eames moved harder and faster as Ariadne cried out. Limbs loose and trembling, she lay limply in Arthur's arms. She faced Eames, still kneeling with his head between her thighs. "Eames," she whispered in a breathy voice as he traced her slick folds with his tongue. "Good as this feels," Ariadne gasped, "I need you to go harder." Eames slid his tongue into her slit at those words, and she whimpered softly. "Yes," she hissed, her eyes sliding shut. "God, yes."

Arthur moved to kiss her again, tongue sliding into her mouth. She grasped hold of his shoulders, fingers tight and digging in. Her entire body shook as she came again under Eames' mouth and fingers, and Arthur moved to lie down on the bed. He pulled her over him, guiding his cock into her. Eames pressed his slicked fingers into her backside, and Ariadne whimpered at the feel of them working her body to a fever pitch.

The intensity that had been in Eames' gaze was in Arthur's eyes. She shivered at the sight of it, at not knowing what it truly meant. He was so closed off in some ways; she at first had wanted to keep that as it was. It would be easier to kill him then. She hadn't wanted to like him, hadn't wanted to crave his touch. But he was full and thick inside of her, his hands sliding across her skin in ways that made her writhe and whimper and scream in pleasure. Eames pressed into her, his hands cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples between his rough fingers. She see-sawed between them, nearly sobbing at the sensations they were coaxing out of her.

"Let go," Arthur whispered, hands moving to support her. They brushed against Eames' hands on her breasts, and Ariadne looked down at him as she struggled to breathe. The look in his eyes was almost uncomfortable to see. "Come for us, Ariadne," he whispered.

With a cry, Ariadne came again. She collapsed down, supported by their tangle of arms as they thrust a few more times. She could feel them twitch inside of her when they came as well, and she made soft sounds when they pulled out of her. She was sensitive and stretched out, her chest feeling like a gaping wound.

She could say that she felt like an empty shell, but that wouldn't be true. She didn't know what the hell she was going to do.

Eames was playing with her hair as Arthur stroked her belly, his lips pressed to the curve of her shoulder. It terrified her to feel comfortable like this, to feel as though this was natural. She could live like this, fucked out and adored, but everything that came before would cease to matter. The loss of her family, even Cobb, had to mean something. If she accepted this life as their human pet, it would be like saying that her losses were superficial things.

That was something she couldn't do, no matter what.

***

"You could book a visit at the spa," Arthur said, going through the brochures on the desk as Ariadne changed into pajamas.

"Ooh. You could get yourself all prettied up and pampered during the day, then show off everything when you get back," Eames said with a leer. "Ow!" he cried as Arthur smacked the back of his head casually. "What the fuck?"

"Be nice," Arthur said sweetly.

Ariadne turned and looked at the two of them. "Was there something specific...?"

"Goddammit, Arthur," Eames grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "I _am_ nice. I'm a bloody charmer next to your stoic ass."

Arthur cleared his throat. "I was thinking you might like the hot stone massages and the steam baths," he said, handing over the brochure as she approached.

"Ooh. Look at that," Eames said, snatching it up before Ariadne could read it. "Hot wax. Sounds kinky. That would be fun, wouldn't it? Waxing all the hair off of your body. I can't wait lick up all the skin," he added with a leer as he handed over the brochure. "Can I watch?"

"No," Ariadne said sweetly as Arthur smacked Eames on the back of the head again. She couldn't help but giggle when Eames tipped Arthur out of the chair he was sitting in, sending the older vampire to sprawling across the floor.

Arthur pulled on Ariadne's leg, causing her to fall on top of him. For a terrifying, electric moment, Ariadne thought he was going to say something along the lines of "I love you," as Eames had done a dozen times over. Instead, he gave her a chaste kiss and a happy grin, making her stomach do strange flip flops.

Eames lowered himself to the ground and flopped down on top of Ariadne, making the breath rush out of Arthur. "I'll book the appointment for you. It'll be fun."

The moment was lost, and Ariadne merely tucked her face against Arthur's chest. She was being stupid. She was losing her mind.

She went to the spa appointment and did enjoy the massages and steam baths as Arthur had thought she might. Just for Eames, she let the beauticians do whatever they wanted and waxed more things than she thought could possibly be waxed. They fussed over her, and for a while she felt like a goddess.

Ariadne lay between them in the bed afterward, her arms around each vampire. They napped during the day as she slept. It shouldn't have felt as comfortable as it did. It shouldn't have felt as right as it did. It shouldn't have felt like something she wanted.

She didn't know what she wanted to do anymore, and that terrified her more than anything else.

***  
***


	8. Enter The Night

"Where are we headed?" Ariadne asked, fastening the screen on the window tightly. They had booked a sleeper car in its entirety, and Arthur had mentioned that the screens sometimes had gaps. She was going to tack up a blanket over the train window.

"Florence," Arthur said, looking up with a smile. There was something there behind his eyes, something like the weight of knowledge he wanted to tease her with. "Art and architecture, thousands of years of history and culture everywhere you step. It'll be fun."

"Everything's about fun with you, isn't it?" Ariadne asked, turning around to pick up the blanket she was going to tack up over the window.

"It's a difficult path to be a dilettante. But it does give the best kind of travel history."

Ariadne saw the true joy in Arthur's expression and frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I've picked up a lot of things over the years in our travels. Eames tends toward the unsavory, of course, but there's quite a lot I've learned. It's a varied education, but every little bit helps." He shrugged and grasped Ariadne about the waist and pulled her closer. "It creates a fairly large network of acquaintances and informants. It's amazing, the kind of thing you can discover if you ask the right questions of the right people."

"Like what?"

"Wouldn't do to spoil the surprise, Ariadne," he said with a smile. He pulled her down for a kiss, his tongue sliding across the seam of her lips. "Put up the blanket and come back."

It was short work to tack up the blanket. Either vampire could have done it himself, but she suspected they simply wanted to enjoy the view. She had to wiggle around and shift her weight to get the tacks pushed in deep enough, and Eames made an audible contented sigh.

Really, sometimes it was hard to remember they were ruthless killers.

Ariadne wound up straddling Arthur's waist, his arms sliding up her back to steady her as the train pulled out of the station. His kiss was deep and sensual, tongue stroking hers steadily. A slow heat curled low in her belly, and she could feel Eames slide his hands around her waist as he stood behind her. His hands rolled over her waist back and forth before his fingers slid beneath her sweater and blouse to slide against her skin. Arthur's hands were up near her shoulders, his mouth fixed on hers. Eames slid her shirts up, exposing the smooth line of her back, and licked his way up her spine. She shivered beneath his lips, and Arthur gently broke the kiss. "Ever make love on the train?" he asked, lips quirking into a smile. Ariadne shook her head wordlessly, eyes large and luminous in the half light.

"Want to?" Eames asked her, lips warm at the small of her back. "The extra rocking will be just like carriages used to be. Those were _fun."_

"Is there anything you _don't_ find fun?" Ariadne asked archly, turning to look at him. Eames merely grinned unrepentantly as he helped her take off her sweater. Arthur had the buttons of her blouse undone within the space of a blink, and his mouth was against the valley between her breasts. Ariadne gasped and allowed Eames to take off the blouse. She clung to Arthur for balance as Eames kissed the side of her neck. His fingers brushed down her sides, making her shiver, and he pulled up her skirt to slide his hands inside her panties. "How is this going to work?" she gasped.

Arthur moved to lift her breast out of her bra, taking it into his mouth. Ariadne made a soft sound of pleasure that turned into a strangled moan as Eames slid his fingers inside her. "Like this, love," he murmured against her neck. "Relax. Let us take care of you for a bit."

It was easy enough not to think about what this might mean, of what was hiding behind Arthur's placid expression. They left her in just her skirt, rucked up about her waist as she slid down Arthur's length. Eames worked her open and slid in from behind, his teeth along the side of her neck. He bit down as he came, not hard enough to break the skin but just hard enough to mark her throat. Arthur broke the skin when he came, and he licked the wound shut after getting a burst of her blood along his tongue. He looked up at her flushed face, and for a startling moment it seemed like pure adoration.

The moment passed, and they helped her clean herself up. It was always startling to see the blood on the hand towels, to see their eyes turn black at the scent of it. Half of the time they wound up licking it all up, teasing another orgasm out of her. Seeing the blood on those towels made her heart race, and she couldn't help but remember her promise to kill them. She still hadn't figured out how she was going to do that.

The train pulled into the station the next day. "Florence. Have we been here before?" Eames asked, looking around the station. "Funny how nothing looks familiar."

"This station wasn't here the last time we were in Florence," Arthur replied, sliding an arm around Ariadne's waist. "Ah. There's our welcoming committee."

Eames turned to look in the general direction of his gaze and grinned. "Vittorine! But you were in Milan!"

Ariadne watched Eames tightly hug a tiny blonde woman with curls piled high on her head. She was perhaps only an inch taller than Ariadne, and both of them were wearing heels. She had a very slight frame, with facial features that seemed almost delicate. Ariadne would have thought she was a porcelain doll, and wouldn't have thought her out of place in a collection of Bru dolls on display at a museum. She grinned at Eames and ruffled his hair playfully. "Eames, my darling. You look wonderful." She turned toward Arthur and Ariadne and nearly skipped toward them. "Arthur! So wonderful to see you! And this must be Ariadne," she said, taking hold of Ariadne's other arm. "Such a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard a few things about you, but I do think our Arthur downplayed your attributes in his usual way."

"Er... Very nice to meet you," Ariadne stammered, overwhelmed by Vittorine's effusive personality. She could see why Vittorine and Eames would have gotten along famously. She couldn't see why Vittorine would get along with Arthur at all.

"So polite, too. I'm so very glad we're following a few of the traditions, then. It's been _ages_ since anyone's done that."

Ariadne managed to take Vittorine's arm when the vampire offered it, saying she wanted to get to know her better. Eames and Arthur trailed behind them, as well as Vittorine's servants who took the luggage on a hand cart. There was a limo waiting outside the train station for them. "So you're the one to steal their hearts," Vittorine mused, patting Ariadne's hand gently. "How lovely you must be."

"I'm not exactly sure how to respond to that," Ariadne admitted.

Vittorine only laughed, and it sounded like the tinkling of bells. Everything about her seemed delicate and doll-like, and she looked so very breakable. Ariadne was certain that the appearance was deceiving, however. "I like you already."

"We've only just met," Ariadne protested.

"Yes, but you aren't exactly a wallflower, are you? You aren't cringing from me in fear, aren't screaming into the hills at what we are. It's lovely. It speaks to an inner strength, and I've always appreciated that in people."

Ariadne frowned at Vittorine. "How old _are_ you?"

"Oh, darling. You should never ask a lady that kind of question," Vittorine rebuked with a laugh. She laughed harder as Ariadne sputtered. "Oh, it's a good thing I'm no lady, yes? Yes, of course it is. I'm over four hundred, but I never know if people mean to ask from the year of my birth or the year of my turning. It's not quite five hundred yet either way," she declared, stopping when they got to the limo. "I've rented a palazzo for all of us and the guests I'll be receiving. I wanted to do this in style, of course."

Arthur smiled warmly at her. "I'm glad you approve."

"Of course I do," Vittorine replied, beaming. "Let's go see the palazzo I picked!"

"I'm sure it's fit for a countess," Eames drawled as he entered the limo.

Vittorine sat next to Ariadne, who sat across from Eames. Arthur sat across from Vittorine, and Ariadne couldn't help but think that they looked very comfortable with all these casual displays of wealth. "Oh, it is," Vittorine said brightly. She turned to Ariadne. "I'm a countess, you know."

"I hadn't," Ariadne said quietly. She looked over at Eames' beaming face.

"That was the forgery I did for her when we met," Eames said. "The documents in that vault had to say that Mama dearest was the Count's current wife."

Vittorine grinned at Eames. "He did a lovely job. The Count was old and died without heirs. It wouldn't do to have all those lands revert to the government. They'd only squander that kind of wealth, and I have such a better long term investment plan for it." She winked at Ariadne and looped her arm into hers a friendly gesture. "You should come see it. The grounds are immaculate, and there are still a few acres around the house. Some of the properties were sold off through the years. That bastard Franco had the nerve to seize one, too. Good riddance to him being long gone."

Arthur snorted and covered it up with a cough. Vittorine narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you laugh, Arthur. Just because you couldn't keep yours..."

Something in Arthur's gaze shifted uncomfortably. "Don't, Vittorine."

She sniffed and turned back to Ariadne. "Well, I am a Countess. And didn't even need to sleep with the old man for it. That would've been vile. I'd much rather have sex with pretty people," she said, a dimple twinkling in her cheek. She slid her hand down Ariadne's arm and grasped her forearm gently. "Can I have a taste? Just to see what's gotten them so riled up?"

Ariadne was startled and looked at Arthur and Eames. Arthur's expression was carefully blank and Eames merely shrugged, leaving the decision up to her. "I guess..."

Vittorine moved faster than Ariadne could blink, bringing her wrist up to her mouth. It was over as soon as it was done, barely any blood left behind. Vittorine held Ariadne's blood on her tongue and then ran her tongue over her teeth after she swallowed. She seemed to be savoring the flavor of it, rather like Arthur tasting a new wine. It was creepy, and Ariadne shifted slightly away from Vittorine in her seat. "Mmm. Lovely bouquet there, even with their markings all over it," Vittorine decided. "Oh, yes, I approve mightily."

"We didn't ask your approval," Arthur replied, sounding almost churlish. "Since when did you follow rules anyway?"

Vittorine kicked him in the shin with the pointy part of her stiletto, making him wince. She smiled sweetly and slid her foot along Eames' calf, making his pant leg rise up slightly. "I follow them when they suit me, and they suit me when it involves Eames." She blew him a kiss gaily. "And since you're dear to him, it suits me to follow the traditions where you're concerned, Arthur. No more, no less."

"So glad to be part of the family," Arthur intoned, surreptitiously rubbing his shin.

Beaming, Vittorine leaned into Ariadne and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. "So pretty, this. I used to want to be brunette, you know. But dyes don't take for very long. Tattoos don't either. Ink gets purged from the skin in a day or so, you know. We get to look the same way we did when we were turned, for good or ill."

"And that was..." Ariadne frowned as she tried to figure out the dates for Vittorine. "The Renaissance?"

"The very same. Very lovely and very blasphemous, really," she declared with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

"My mortal mother was a whore and my biological father was a bishop," Vittorine said with a grin. "I was in training to follow in the same grand tradition when I met Herman. I suppose I should be glad he liked delicate things."

"Liked?" Ariadne asked faintly. How many vampires were out there? Suddenly being a hunter seemed like an impossible task.

"Yes. He bought me off of my mother," Vittorine said with a dismissive wave. "And when he was killed, Gabriel turned me. So really, it all worked out for the best. Oh! Look there! You can see the palazzo in the distance!" Vittorine cooed, pointing out of the window toward the estate in question. "Very fit for a Countess."

Ariadne blinked at Vittorine and followed her gaze to the palazzo they were approaching. "It does look lovely."

"You'll like Florence, dear," Vittorine said, squeezing her knee gently. "I've always favored it for special occasions. After all, I was born here. I should have some nice memories of the place," she declared. She pointed to Eames almost accusingly. "I'd've turned you here, my love, but you insisted on staying in New York."

"It was fun at the time," he declared with a grin.

"Well, yes. So I forgive you." She leaned forward and pulled him close for a kiss. "I'd've forgiven you anyway, since you took care of that awful Federico. Nasty, nasty sort," she said, leaning back to look at Ariadne. "Thought so highly of himself, when he really was no better than anyone else in that damaged set."

"I'll take your word for it," Ariadne told her politely.

Vittorine laughed, sounding like a chorus of silver bells. "Oh, yes, I do like her. My dears, you've chosen a most excellent companion. Thank you for letting me meet her."

Eames beamed at Vittorine, reaching out to grasp her hand tightly. "I'm glad you feel that way, too, Vittorine."

The limo rolled to a stop and Vittorine bounded out of the limo before one of her attendants could open the door. "I picked a lovely little suite for the three of you. Only the best, I say."

"We appreciate it," Arthur replied, getting out of the limo. He extended a hand for Ariadne, and she took it. She stared up at the palazzo in awe, not sure what to say. Arthur gently closed her mouth. "Let's go inside, yes? It's getting a little chilly for you outside."

The inside of the palazzo was just as elegant and beautiful as the outside. There was marble and gilt edging, carefully done crown molding and hand crafted paneling in the foyer. Vittorine grinned at Ariadne's dazed look. "I'm so glad you like it!" she chirped gaily. She turned to Arthur. "And I'll have you know, Miles will be arriving to deliver the gift _personally._ I must say, I'm impressed. It's hard to get him out of Paris on most days."

Arthur stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"Miles told me he was impressed by your request." Vittorine looked pleased, a wide grin on her face. "And it's such a romantic gesture, really. So thoughtful." She turned toward the confused Ariadne. "I do hope you'll have lovely memories of Florence, too. It's a city dear to my heart." She waved at them. "I'm going out for the evening, a ball in Milan I promised I would attend. But I did want to greet you all properly. Vincenzo will take care of any requests you have," she said, indicating the butler that arrived seemingly out of nowhere. "He's very discreet, very loyal."

Vincenzo appeared to be in his late forties and was dressed in an old fashioned butler's uniform. He bowed slightly. "As milady requests, so it will be done."

Vittorine nearly twinkled at the remark. "See? Wonderful man, wonderful. You'll be most taken care of until I return. It should be in a few days." She gave all three of them kisses on both cheeks before disappearing in a cloud of perfume.

"Um. So... That's Vittorine," Ariadne remarked. Arthur nodded, no indication of his thoughts on the matter. Eames looked pleased at the thought that his sire liked Ariadne. "Very..."

Eames laughed. "Yes, well, now you see why I don't stay with her all that often." He grasped Ariadne's hand and tucked it into the crook of his bent arm. "It seems I do like a touch of stability every now and then," he said with a smile, eyes sliding toward Arthur. "And he could use my ability to brighten up his life."

"They're all very much influenced by their times," Arthur said, taking up a position on Ariadne's other side. "We should retire for the evening."

"So old fashioned, you," Eames snarked as they followed Vincenzo. Four unnamed servants followed them with the luggage. "Let's make him scream tonight."

Ariadne nearly choked at that, and glared at Eames, pointing toward Vincenzo's back with her head. "Eames..."

He laughed, unrepentant. "Vincenzo, how long have you worked for the Countess?"

"Nearly a hundred and forty years, sir," Vincenzo said, not turning around. He led them to their assigned suite. "Master Eames, Master Arthur," he said with a small bow, "a pleasure as always." He smiled warmly at Ariadne, something she hadn't expected. "Miss Ariadne. It is a pleasure making your acquaintance. It would be my honor to meet all of your needs during your stay with the Countess."

Ariadne goggled at him and turned toward the two vampires when he and the other servants left. "What was that all about?"

"Some vampires like keeping human servants about to care for them in the daytime." Eames flopped onto the king size bed and sprawled over the luxuriant comforter. "Mmm. Nice. And Vincenzo's been in her employ for a long time. He's utterly devoted to her, as you can see. And really, he's seen worse than the three of us together."

"Your fault?" Arthur asked in arch tones.

Eames grinned. "Actually, no. Vittorine is capable of quite a lot on her own, yeah? I was just along for the ride for most of it."

Arthur snorted and then pulled Ariadne against him. He kissed her thoroughly, leaving her dazed for a moment. "Up to Eames' challenge, then?"

Ariadne blinked at him. "What?"

"Making me scream," he said in a rough tone of voice, pupils blown wide in desire. He slid a hand along her cheek, and Ariadne felt a low heat curl in her belly at the contact. "Making me come." Arthur slid his thumb along Ariadne's lower lip. "Leaving me exhausted. Think you can do this?"

"Yes," she said, chin rising a notch.

"Good," Arthur growled before seizing her mouth in a possessive kiss, his hands sliding across her skin.

Ariadne was drowning in it, in the scent of him all around her. This place was casually opulent, exquisitely excessive. It wasn't the kind of place that Ariadne was used to, wasn't the kind of place she had ever thought she would visit. The quiet acceptance of excess and desire seemed to work its way under her skin, seemed to catch her up in the atmosphere.

France and her painful past seemed so very far away.

Ariadne walked forward, making Arthur walk backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He fell backward, and Ariadne had him shimmy upward until he was sprawled over the comforter, limbs splayed wide. He was vulnerable in front of her, throat bared and torso defenseless. Something tripped inside her chest, and she pulled at his clothes until he was bare in front of her, skin soft and pale beneath her fingertips. Eames stepped forward eagerly, fingers skimming across Arthur's calf, but she shook her head at him. "Me first," she said in a firm tone of voice. Arthur made a soft noise that had her turning back to him, and she could see that his eyes were black with lust.

She bent her head to layer kisses across his bare chest, circling his flat nipples with her tongue. He let out a soft sigh as she slowly trailed her kisses lower, until the crisp, curling hairs of his groin brushed against her chin. She could feel Eames' eyes on them, knew that he was stroking himself at the sight of them. It was probably taking a lot of effort for Eames to refrain from grasping her hips and pounding into her from behind, but this was about Arthur now. Ariadne stroked the underside of his balls with one hand and took him into her mouth. He made a soft, desperate noise, and she smiled around his cock. He was always so restrained, always holding back. She wanted him to lose control for a little while. She wanted him to know how it felt to be helpless beneath her, to be at her mercy.

It felt like hours that she teased him with hands and lips and tongue, working him up to a near frenzy before retreating to kiss his stomach or thighs. Once he seemed to settle down, she took him into her mouth again. Eames had already teased himself to orgasm twice before deciding to curl up around Arthur. As Ariadne worked him with her mouth and hands, Eames stroked his hair gently, whispering naughty, dirty things in his ear. Arthur arched up into Ariadne's mouth, hands fisted in the coverlet as he groaned and twisted. "That's it, darling," Eames murmured, sliding an arm beneath Arthur's shoulders. "God, this beautiful, watching her fuck you like this."

Arthur gave a helpless moan, mouth falling open to bare his fangs as he hissed in pleasure. "Ariadne," he panted, legs moving restlessly. "God, Ariadne," he moaned, hips canted toward her mouth. He whined when she withdrew, when her only contact was a soft brush of her fingertips against the insides of his thighs.

"What do you want, Arthur?" Ariadne asked, hovering over him. He looked at her with a helpless, vulnerable expression. For a startling moment, Ariadne thought that maybe she was more than half in love with him.

"You," he groaned, reaching for her. He grasped her by the back of the neck and pulled her close to kiss her. Ariadne straddled his waist and mounted him, riding him hard and fast until he came with a strangled shout, hands tight on her hips.

Ariadne settled on top of him, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath her ear. Eames was tucked in next to Arthur, pressing kisses to his shoulder and cheek, a grin on his face. Ariadne smiled against Arthur's chest as his arms tightened protectively around her. It was comforting, lulling her to sleep.

***

There was a very modern exercise room in the palazzo, and Ariadne ran on the treadmill as if her life depended on it. It was daylight outside, but most of the windows were covered over with blackout screens. Vincenzo had explained to her that daily infusions of vampire blood were necessary to maintain his longevity, and that he otherwise was human. "I'd crumble to dust without it," he had said when she asked, curious about his ability to serve Vittorine for so long. "Even when my mistress is away, she makes sure that our needs are met," he said in even tones. "Their blood can keep for a few days at a time, if stored properly, and she always sends someone if she is unable to return."

It was a morbid fascination, she told herself. She was still collecting information to share with hunters, even if she probably would never speak to one ever again. The only one she knew that she would really miss was Yusuf. He had always been a good friend to her, and he was probably worried about her now. She had been missing for months, with no body left behind. He knew that she would never run off somewhere with Cobb, and he would probably be the only one concerned about her whereabouts. She missed him and the friendly camaraderie she had with him. She wouldn't miss the other assholes Cobb had often worked with, and she had distanced herself from the university friends she'd had before her family's deaths.

It felt strange to realize that she really did have no ties to the outside world any longer. Arthur and Eames had become her whole life, and it scared her.

Eames grasped her about the waist when she returned to their suite, swinging her around in a wide circle and making her cry out as her balance was upset. He laughed and pulled her against him, bodies crashing together. "Dance with me?"

"There isn't any music," Ariadne protested, shaking her head. "And I'm all sweaty from running."

"Fine, then. Shower with me?"

Ariadne pulled back and looked at Eames' playful face. "You're... happier here, I think," she began slowly.

"All the people that I care about are gathered up all in one place, more or less. What's not to be happy about?"

"But..."

"Love, sometimes it's all about the simple things. It's realizing that sometimes, it's enough to get you through the day or year before the weight of it all comes crashing down." He was serious despite the devilish twinkle in his eyes. "What matters to me is being there, seeing things happen. It's making Arthur or Vittorine laugh. Especially Arthur, since the bastard tends to be so morose and dry, you know. And now, you."

"Me."

"There's that somber edge to you." He ran the backs of his fingers across Ariadne's cheek. "I know what it's from, I know it's never going away. But that won't stop me from trying to make you forget for a little while."

"You're saying I'm your reason for living now?" Ariadne asked him incredulously.

"I'm saying you're one of them," Eames murmured, kissing her forehead. "That's enough for me. But then, I've never pretended to be a deep thinker or do much more than live for the moment. Hard to do that when you're on the run, yeah? Besides, Arthur's the philosopher enough for both us. All that heavy reading he had to do once upon a time. I'm surprised you got through as many books as you did before we left the house."

Ariadne remembered the stacks of books that had arrived two days after her discussion with Arthur in the restaurant, all the old Greek classics translated into French or English. She had read through them mostly as a way to distance herself from the two vampires during the day, but some of them had been interesting in their own right. She tried to smile at Eames. "I was a university student once upon a time."

"Deadly dull, most of that rot." Eames swept her around in a circle and then licked the sweat from her temple. "Then again, maybe I would've had the mind for it under other circumstances. I'm not a complete imbecile," he said with a smile.

"I never would have called you an imbecile," Ariadne murmured as he backed her toward the bathroom of the suite. It had a lavish whirlpool tub and a shower large enough to accommodate the three of them at once with plenty of elbow room. "More of a people person than an academic, maybe."

"That I am, love," Eames agreed. "Maths isn't my strong suit. Calculators were a wonderful invention." He helped take off all of her clothes and started the water flowing in the whirlpool tub. "Fancy a few bubbles?"

Ariadne smiled and shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

The jets were wonderful against the muscles of her back and shoulders. She had a minute to relax as Eames undressed. Once he slipped inside the tub he was kissing her on the mouth with his usual reckless abandon. Ariadne held onto his shoulders, heart beating triple time as she let her hands run down the planes of his back. She could feel the play of his muscles beneath his skin as he moved over her, knew how controlled he was with her. He made her feel physically fragile, while Arthur made her feel mentally fragile.

Eames moved inside of her with an almost practiced ease. Ariadne wrapped her legs around his waist and whimpered softly as he thrust deeply inside of her, one of his hands along her back and the other holding onto the side of the tub. She came twice before he finally shuddered in her arms, his face pressed against her neck. His fangs trailed against the skin of her neck, making her shiver despite the warmth of the water swirling around them. "You can have a taste," she murmured, eyes sliding shut. They pressed into her skin at the invitation, and a hot burst of blood flowed into his mouth. What the hell was she doing?

He broke the skin of his wrist and offered it to her afterward, that look of pleased devotion on his face. She felt like such a fraud as she sucked on his blood, tasting it like a fine wine before letting it slide down her throat. Eames stroked the back of her head gently, slow caresses as she fed from him. "God, you're perfect like this," he growled, fangs elongated and bared in front of her. His eyes were on her face as she licked her lips, swallowing down the last of his blood. "Everything about you is _perfect."_

Ariadne shook her head and stepped out of the tub. "I'm not perfect, Eames. Not by a long shot."

He shut everything off and pulled her against him. "I think you are." He cupped her face in his hands. "Arthur does, too."

"You're the only one saying these things to me. He never does."

"Yes, well, I laugh when you call me names. He can't."

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to admit it was true. She didn't want to care. She didn't want to matter. She should have run from them while they were on the train. She shouldn't have come to Monaco or even Florence. She should have run away in the south of France and gotten back to those asshole hunters she knew. She couldn't want to be with them, not like this. It didn't make sense.

"Come, love. We'll be all right."

"How can you say that?" Ariadne asked him brokenly.

Eames gave her a crooked, endearing smile that made her want to weep. "Because I'll do everything in my power to make it happen, that's why."

"I shouldn't be anything to you," she whispered, blinking back tears that threatened to form. "I tried to kill you."

"Yeah." He brought her hand up to his chest, to the spot where she had missed his heart by an inch. "I'm very thankful you didn't."

"I promised you I'd try again. I keep my promises."

"I know." He moved his hand from over hers to cup her face, running his thumb along the edge of her lip. "Maybe someday you won't feel like you have to."

"Today isn't that day."

"It's also not the day you're going to kill me, is it?" She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. "Good. Mama dearest wouldn't like having my blood all over her floor. Gets picky like that, she does." It startled a laugh out of her, and Eames smiled. "Come on, love. No doom and gloom today, all right?"

Ariadne covered his large hand on her face with hers. "All right," she said with a sigh. "Not today. Vittorine's coming back tonight, isn't she?"

"Tomorrow or the day after, I think." He shrugged. "It's going to be fine, whenever she does come back. I love her, but she's not the one I want to be with right now."

"Arthur, you mean?"

"You and him both, poppet. I admit, I get greedy." He grinned at her, a flash of teeth and fangs. "I want you both and don't like to share much."

Something in her chest stuttered at the thought of being shared with anyone else. It had been whispered at different hunter gatherings, that there were human pets out there that sought out new vampires, that wanted to be bitten. Those pets saw it as a rush, and like with any other drug, couldn't get enough with just one vampire. Those humans were looked down upon, and Ariadne was shared between two vampires. And had let Vittorine drink from her, if she was being honest.

"I... I don't want to be shared," Ariadne told him, voice hoarse.

Eames' hands slid down her body. "Good." He flashed her another playful smile. "Come on, then. That in the tub? Just a teaser for all I'd like to do to you. I want to lick all that soft skin of yours, make you scream my name when you come with my fingers inside of you, get you hot and bothered enough to forget your own name." Ariadne's knees trembled slightly at the desire in his voice. "How does that sound?"

"G-good," she stammered, a flush rising in her cheeks.

He caught her up in his arms and brought her into the bedroom, depositing her on the bed. "Then tonight's the night for you, I think," he said with a knowing smile. She didn't even have time to ask what he meant by that before he seized her mouth in a kiss. She was lost inside of it, devoured whole. She didn't notice Arthur sitting quietly in a corner of the bedroom, a crystal decanter in hand. Eames slid down her body to lick and probe at her folds, fingers sliding inside her slick heat as his lips closed over her clit. Ariadne writhed beneath his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck. Her other hand was up at her chest, fingering her own breast. She moaned, eyes closed as she drowned in the sensation of him, her body already sensitive to his touch. She came easily, quickly, and she gasped when he pulled away.

She opened her eyes and saw Arthur watching them, eyes dark and blown wide with lust. He put aside a crystal decanter half full of red wine and nodded at Eames. "Up to the top marker," he told him in a quiet voice, and then knelt between her spread thighs. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured, then lowered his body over hers. He kissed her with a passion she wouldn't have guessed at just by looking at him. He was hard between her legs, sliding thick and full inside her with one wicked thrust. Ariadne moaned as he moved over her, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, one hand at his back and the other at the nape of his neck. His tongue slid into her mouth, stroking hers, and she felt as if she was being swallowed whole inside his kiss. She could never tell very much by his expressions, by how tightly he held himself sometimes. She thought she could read his eyes, the gradation in the tightness or stillness of his form.

God, she was just as hopelessly broken as they were.

Ariadne cried out as she came, Arthur's lips on her throat and his cock still hard inside of her. He tilted over so that she lay on top of him, and urged her to kneel over his form. He set her to start rocking over him, and Ariadne picked up on the rhythm right away. She moaned almost obscenely at the feel of him, at the waves of pleasure shooting through her. She came again, milking him hard, pulling him over the edge with her. She collapsed down on top of him, and could feel Eames coming up behind her. Loose limbed, she was like putty in their hands. Both men nuzzled her neck, and she made a quiet, contented sound.

They bit down hard into her neck and started to draw her blood out in great mouthfuls. Something didn't feel right, and after a moment fear kicked in. "What?" she gasped, shaking in their arms. "What are you doing?"

She could feel her heart in her throat, and they didn't budge when she pushed at them. A strangled, frightened noise came out of her throat, and her hands slid down their bare shoulders ineffectually. Her eyes slid shut. It was almost too much effort to keep them open, to lay over Arthur even with Eames helping to keep her steady. She felt boneless and weak, her stuttering heartbeat like an echo in her ears.

It felt like forever before they let her go, before she felt the press of crystal against her mouth. She opened her eyes and saw the crystal decanter Arthur had been holding, now full. Arthur held her tenderly, a faint pained look in his eyes. Ariadne opened her mouth to ask him why he looked so upset, but her voice wouldn't come. Her lips were barely responding to her commands, and she couldn't feel her hands or feet. Everything was numbed and cold, a chill washing over her.

 _I'm about to die,_ she thought clearly, just as the decanter tipped against her parted lips. She could taste blood on her tongue, thick like honey and tasting like the most magnificent wine she had ever drank at their behest.

Exhausted and confused, she drank the entire decanter before passing out.

***  
***


	9. Ghost Walker

Ariadne came to with a start, horrible cramps shooting through her gut. She cried out, doubling over in pain, eyes squeezed shut. She could feel Arthur's hands along the curve of her back, his lips next to her ear. If he was saying something, she couldn't hear it over the groans she was making. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. She was installed over the toilet, arms wrapped around her middle. It felt almost as if a vise was being applied to her gut from the inside out. She gasped and opened her eyes to look at him. She was so thirsty, her mouth dry and parched, her insides a mess. "What--?" she began, but groaned in pain. It was slowly moving lower, a squeezing feeling along her intestines. "Oh, God, what happened?"

Eames came into the bathroom and leaned against the counter. He had a crystal decanter in his hands, full of red liquid. "You'll need more of this, poppet."

She looked up at them, feeling almost betrayed. "Oh my god," she breathed. She then doubled over as another wave of pain rolled through her, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming. Arthur was massaging her back, kneeling beside her.

She was going to fucking kill them.

The entire process of her body dying was painful and disgusting. As the pain moved lower down her intestines, her bladder and colon emptied into the toilet. Eames clipped her hair back and out of the way, and Arthur kept massaging her lower back. It did help, but she still growled at him and dug her hands into his shoulders painfully. She let out a groan as another wave of pain rolled through her. She moaned slightly in its wake, feeling weak and helpless. She tried to bat Eames away from her, but he pressed the decanter to her mouth and tipped it carefully to keep from spilling a drop. Their blood spilled over her tongue and down the back of her throat. She convulsively swallowed; it tasted like ambrosia and she was _thirsty_ and she was going to strip the skin from their bones as soon as her body responded to her commands again.

Ariadne could feel a cold sweat along her skin, and she felt nauseous. Their blood felt heavy in her stomach, and the waves of pain were slowing down. Arthur kept massaging her back, and Eames was holding onto her shoulders, keeping her upright. She made little helpless noises she was ashamed to hear herself make, but couldn't help it. It _hurt,_ and it felt as though her entire body was catching fire.

"Not much longer now," Arthur murmured, pressing his face to her side. Her heartbeat was slowing down a bit as the pain eased. "Still thirsty?"

She nodded and let out a low moan. Her eyes slid shut as Arthur reached for the decanter, ready to slice his wrist open to fill it. She didn't need to see this, didn't need to know that Eames was going to contribute to this as well. "You'll be all right, poppet," Eames murmured against her temple. "This is like childbirth, Vittorine said. Giving birth to a whole new life in much less time." He took up the decanter as Ariadne's eyes opened, and bit his wrist open to bleed into it. She could see two finely carved lines in the crystal, each mark indicating a liter's worth of fluid. Eames filled it up to the top mark, then licked his wrist shut. "One more ought to do it." He tipped the decanter toward her lips, and she obediently opened her mouth to drink it all down.

She was _thirsty_ and _tired_ and _aching,_ her skin on fire and her mind caught in the midst of a fever. She was dying, and she was going to fucking kill them both for this stunt they pulled.

When her body seemed to stop releasing filth, she collapsed into Arthur's arms. "Are you still thirsty?" he asked her, voice strained. She shook her head slowly, feeling as though it was lolling uselessly on his shoulder. Her body wasn't quite responding to her wishes, and nothing seemed to work quite right. "Eames, turn on the shower. That might help."

Ariadne wanted to ask how the hell that would help, but her lips weren't moving the way they should. A great shudder wracked through her, and she was afraid she was going to throw up. Blood would probably taste horrible coming back up, and she was weak enough as it was.

The three of them fit easily in the shower, and it was a cool enough temperature that it did seem to ease the fire in her limbs. The two of them propped her up between them, the spray of water rolling down the smooth expanse of her back. "I'm going to kill you both," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. It felt as if she had been shouting for hours, her throat hoarse and raw.

"This will pass," Arthur murmured gently. She could hear inflections in his tone that she hadn't heard before, a pain and sadness beneath the indifference she had thought he used. She didn't want to care. This shouldn't matter.

Eames was on her other side, her skin feeling hypersensitive and scraped raw. "First few hours are the worst, poppet. We're with you."

When she was able to scream, she did. Long and loud and agonized, her fingers digging into her throat as she thrashed about on the floor of the bedroom. Thirst burned through her and her gums felt like they were burning. Her canines were lengthening, reforming, becoming something more like actual fangs. Arthur and Eames were on either side of her, pulling at her hands, keeping her from ripping out her own throat. Ariadne struck out at them, kicked them, howled at what they had done to her. They took it, absorbing the blows and making soothing, comforting noises she didn't want to hear. She didn't want to know this hurt them as much as it hurt her, that they didn't want to see her in pain this way. With a loud screeching noise, she threw herself at Arthur. She ripped at his throat with her new fangs and swallowed greedily. Eames pulled her off after a few swallows, and she snarled at him for taking her meal away. Eyes blacked over in hunger, Ariadne launched herself at Eames. He held her close as she drank from his throat in great convulsive swallows.

Back and forth they offered themselves to her, then pinned her down and drained her dry again. Ariadne made helpless sputtering noises as they filled the decanter up to the brim between the two of them, then drank its contents greedily. Three more rounds with the decanter were needed before the hollow ache in her gut seemed appeased, but she still felt keyed up and wired. She paced the room underneath their baleful glances, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. She wanted to hit something, throw something, punch someone, howl at the sky, _something,_ anything to get rid of this agitation beneath her skin. It was nearly four hours since they had started this whole process.

Over the next few hours, the pacing was interspersed with attacks on Arthur and Eames, attempting to drain them dry. They allowed a few swallows of their blood here and there, but pried her off of them when they felt she had enough. Ariadne howled with rage, kicking ineffectually at them and not connecting. She sobbed finally, as the fight seemed to roll through her and leave her empty. Her tears were clear but thicker than normal, something like plasma.

"I'm sorry, love," Eames murmured, curling up on one side of her. "I'm so sorry."

"If there was any other way to do this, I would have done it," Arthur told her gently, that same mournful pain in his voice. He held her tightly, almost desperately as she sobbed.

Ariadne was dead now. There was nothing she could do about it.

***

Vincenzo passed Ariadne a ceramic pitcher, ignoring the way she was eying his throat. "You have need of refreshment," he said in his usual formal tones. "This will help."

"Why aren't you running from me?" she demanded, chest heaving with the effort not to launch herself at him. "Why aren't you afraid?"

"I know what my mistress is, Miss Ariadne." He smiled gently at her. "I know what her family is. I know what I have become in service to this family." He didn't try to touch her and didn't come close enough for her to be tempted. "This will pass. I have heard that kind of screaming before, after all. I know what it means. I was in her employ when Master Eames was brought across, after all." He smiled thinly. "That's why I never wished for that fate myself. I prefer the half-life state I have."

Ariadne waited until he left before looking into the pitcher. It was blood, and she didn't know whose it was. She didn't care. She drank it in great, greedy gulps, taking care not to spill it all over the coverlet of the bed. Eames and Arthur had left her in the room alone as soon as night fell, promising to return quickly. She was almost crawling out of her skin, as if coming off of a high, and a hunger seemed to eat at her insides. The blood in the pitcher assuaged it only slightly.

Eames returned first, carrying a stunned deer into the bedroom. "Here. This ought to help a bit without making you feel guilty."

She didn't even ask. Instinct took over, and she drank from the deer's throat in long droughts. She was hungry, _starving,_ and this didn't quite take the edge off.

Arthur came back with a man hogtied and gagged, eyes large with fear. "He tried to pick my pocket and cut my throat," he said without preamble, laying him down at Ariadne's feet. "It didn't seem like the first time he'd done it, either."

Ariadne remembered Eames and Arthur talking about "discretionary dining" when they had been in Marseille. It felt like it had been years ago instead of two weeks. No one would miss a thief from a dark alley. People wouldn't be hurt or killed by him if she killed him the way she had killed the deer. Vincenzo would just as easily dispose of this body as he would dispose of the deer's, though the human staff could always eat the venison. Part of her wanted to deny this, to try to rein in her hunger. She wouldn't be the same as them. She couldn't be the same as them. She wasn't a killer. She even failed at killing them. How could she do this?

She could smell the blood beneath the thief's skin, tinged with the bitter tang of fear and sweat. Her mouth watered and she could feel her fangs elongating in her mouth. She looked up at Arthur and Eames, torn. She knew her eyes would be black with hunger and need, and she was trembling as she struggled not to simply give in to the hunger.

"It's all right," Arthur said gently, kneeling down across from her, the thief's body lying between them. He pushed the battered coat away from the thief's neck. He ran a fingernail along the taut muscle there, marking the carotid artery. "Right there, Ariadne. It'll be over quickly. He won't even feel much pain," he murmured softly. "It's almost like a venom, like some kind of anesthetic. It won't hurt."

The deer hadn't made much noise, either. Perhaps she could only take a few swallows and not kill him? They said it was possible...

Her teeth sank down into his neck, his blood rushing bitter and acrid along her tongue. There was a faint hint of alcohol there, buried beneath the fear. Ariadne drank more, trying to figure out what that elusive taste was, what it was that was so appealing. One more swallow wouldn't hurt. Just one more...

Eames was gently pulling back on her shoulders. "Love, he's tapped out. He's dead now."

Ariadne let out a shuddering breath and looked up at him plaintively. "I'm so hungry."

"I know. I'll go out and bring you back another. You stay here with Arthur."

She looked at Arthur as he left the room, then down at the dead thief. "How... When does it stop? This... I can't stop," she gasped.

Arthur gathered her up in his arms. "You can and you will," he said firmly, pressing her face against his neck. "Your body's still changing, still adjusting. You're burning through all the blood we gave you." He heaved a soft sigh when he felt the press of her teeth against his throat. "Drink, Ariadne. Take what you need."

Whimpering, she bit down hard to break the skin. He cradled her as she drank with deep, shuddering gulps. She let go after a few mouthfuls and felt the wounds seal shut. She kept her eyes closed as he held her, as she tried to think of what to do next. "Oh god," she moaned softly, fingers digging into his shoulders. "What am I doing?"

"What nature tells you to do," Arthur said softly. "Whatever it takes to stay with us."

He was stroking the back of her head rhythmically, lulling her slightly. She was less agitated when Eames came back with a runaway that was close to overdosing on heroin. Ariadne devoured her whole, feeling the high of the drug course through her. She took Eames' throat between her teeth, and he held her tightly as she drank from him.

They laid down on the bed with her, holding her close. She felt too sensitive, as if her skin was crawling. Her gums ached, and she ran her tongue over the front of her teeth, testing them. Other than her canines, they all felt the same. Arthur and Eames' touch felt the same, if heightened, and they still had the same kisses pressed to her skin. "I'm not hungry right now," she murmured softly, wonder in her tone.

"It'll come," Arthur murmured against her temple. "You're new. The change burns through you in spurts. The first week or two was hardest for me."

There was a quiet pain in his voice, and Ariadne turned to her side to face him. She traced his lips with her fingertips. "What happened?"

"It wasn't my choice," Arthur said quietly, tugging on her hair gently. "And there was no attempt to ease me through."

"So this..."

"This isn't so bad, as far as I can tell, poppet," Eames said behind her, rising up onto one elbow to press his lips against her neck. "Hurts like a bitch, it does, but you were through pretty quick. I think I was nine hours in my transition."

Arthur winced in sympathy. "I lost count at seven hours for mine, but like I said, it wasn't pretty. I must've been ten or eleven hours in transition, I think."

"This was how long, then?" Ariadne asked, feeling adrift between them.

"Six or seven, something like that," Eames murmured against her neck. "I was kinda otherwise occupied, didn't look at the clock. Arthur?"

"I'd guess that much. I didn't check either. It didn't matter at the time."

"So that means what?"

"In the grand scheme of things?" Arthur asked, one eyebrow arched. Ariadne nodded. "Nothing. But it does mean you weren't in pain long, and that's the important part. The first hour or two you were passed out, at least."

"I'm going to kill you for this," Ariadne promised, lips trembling.

"I know," he murmured, tracing her lips with his fingertips. "You've said that before."

"I promised you I'd try. I keep my promises," she said hoarsely. She didn't know how she'd keep it though, or even if she wanted to at this point.

"I know." Arthur rolled his fingertips over her bottom lip, then tipped the first part of it between her lips when they parted. "It's all right. Do your worst."

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" she asked, eyes flashing at him.

"Because I'd deserve everything you gave me," he told her quietly. He kissed her softly, hand sliding across her face and brushing across Eames' lips. Eames grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze of support. Arthur hated that he needed that reminder from Eames, but he was grateful for it just the same.

Ariadne sucked in a breath as his tongue slid across hers. She was so exquisitely sensitive now, all of her nerve endings firing a cacophony of sensation. "Oh, god," she moaned. Eames slid his hand along her stomach and Arthur ran his hand along her arm, brushing his wrist against her breast. Ariadne bucked at their touch, breath hissing in between her teeth. She made a soft sound, something like a desperate wail. "What's happening?"

"You feel everything that much more clearly now. More sensitive skin, heightened senses..." Eames licked a trail along the side of her throat, making her shiver. "If you thought the sex was good before, it'll be fantastic now."

Ariadne made a low whimpering noise, already wet and sticky between her thighs. "Please," she said, longing in her voice. "Please."

They pushed her onto her back, and each man took a breast into his mouth. Eames slid his fingers inside of her, blunt and rough, stretching her. Arthur's fingers flicked over her clit, making her nearly squeal at the contact. She writhed between them, her hands clutching at the backs of their necks in fits and starts. She lost count of how many times they made her come, but she was boneless and couldn't breathe when they were finished with her. Arthur slid inside her slicked passage first, an expression she couldn't name on her face. She cried out as he thrust inside of her, feeling as if she was molten gold and liquid fire. He hovered over her, arms propped up on either side of her head. She grasped his wrists, her nails digging in as her entire body trembled beneath his. She gave a low moan, tightening around him as she came, pulling him along with her. Eames slid inside her next, and Ariadne whimpered at the contact. She was on fire and he moved rapidly, pounding deeply inside her until she was howling with every thrust he made.

She was sticky, covered in a light pink sheen. Between her thighs, she was a mess.

Exhausted, Ariadne fell asleep tucked between them, Arthur's steady heartbeat beneath her ear.

***

She could smell the blood inside their veins, and it was driving her insane.

Ariadne woke Arthur by sliding her teeth into his neck and drinking deeply, her hands clutching his shoulders desperately. He cradled her, whispering in her ear that it would pass, the hunger would pass soon enough, she could learn to control it. He would teach her what she needed to know, and she would never be alone with it.

Belly full of his blood, she knelt beside him and looked at him with wide eyes. He seemed so small and vulnerable suddenly, even if he wasn't. His fingers ran down her arm gently, carefully, aware that harder touches would feel like sandpaper against her skin now. "Why did you do this to me?" she whispered, not willing to wake Eames yet.

Arthur sat up carefully, not disturbing Eames, who continued to nap beside them. He grasped her face in his hands. "So you can stay with us. I can't lose you to time."

It was a perfect explanation, yet not one at all.

In frustration, she tore herself away from him and went to wash up. Arthur entered the shower with her and pinned her to the marble tile, hot water beating down over them. He pushed into her from behind, his teeth at her shoulder and his hands sliding over her wrists. She made soft mewling noises as he fucked her with careful precision, keeping her poised on the edge of coming for far too long. "I can't lose you," he said, a frightening intensity in his voice. Then his teeth sank into her neck and Ariadne whimpered as he let her finally come apart beneath his hands. "I won't lose you."

 _You can't lose what isn't yours,_ she wanted to say, but that wasn't entirely true and they both knew it.

Arthur turned her around and pressed her back into the tiles. He slid into her slick heat, mouth over hers. She clung to him as he moved inside of her, her weight balanced in his hands. He was thick and full inside of her, exquisite as he slid in and out with careful strokes. She wanted him to lose control with her, wanted him raw and needy. She wanted him to want her as much as she wanted this, as much as it confused her to feel it. She tucked her face against his neck as she came, sobbing from the force of the orgasm ripping through her. Arthur held her tightly, sliding his arms up around her shoulders so he could stroke the back of her head gently.

He helped her wash off and then toweled her dry with careful precision, his lips hovering over the skin as he dried it. Ariadne stood there, lips parted and breath stuttering in her chest as she watched him touch her. This was different from Eames' way of showing off his devotion, she suddenly realized. Eames was the more flamboyant of the two, effusive with his words and emotions. Arthur had them, but didn't put himself out there in a position to be rejected. Eames was able to shrug off rejection and keep going; it still hurt him, but he could lick his wounds in private afterward. Arthur wasn't the same way about it. His expressions might have been more stony, but his eyes gave everything away.

"You went and played without me," Eames said with a pout from the doorway.

"You weren't wanted," Arthur said brightly, tossing the towel at his face.

Eames snorted and strode over to Ariadne's side. "Morning, poppet." He gave her a lusty kiss, then sauntered out of the bathroom.

"Is it morning?" Ariadne wondered.

"Hell if I know," Arthur returned, getting to his feet. He extended his hand toward Ariadne, and she took it without hesitation.

"I rang for Vincenzo, just to be sure. He'd let us know." Eames dug around in his discarded clothing. "Dammit, I broke another watch," he said with a frown, finding the cracked face of his watch. He tossed it aside and put on a pair of pants that hung low on his hips. "You two must be hungry."

Ariadne ran her tongue along the front of her teeth, feeling the sharp edge of her fangs. "I could eat," she said slowly, making Eames smile. She felt Arthur's arms slide around her middle, and her breath caught at the contact of skin on skin. "God, that feels good."

"Good," he murmured, running his teeth along the side of her neck.

"I don't... I don't feel like myself," Ariadne said slowly. "Like I'm somebody else. Or a ghost."

"It passes, Ariadne," Arthur murmured against the skin of her neck. "Your body's still settling into things. All the new sensations take time to adjust to, how to process it, how to focus."

She ran her tongue along the front of her teeth again, finding no trace of Arthur's blood. She turned around and looked him in the eye. "I want more."

He tilted his neck to give her better access. "Then drink, Ariadne."

He lifted her in his arms to help her get the right angle to slide her fangs into his carotid artery. He held her closely, and she could hear Eames get up. Arthur bit down hard into Eames' proffered wrist, no doubt to give him what she had taken earlier. Ariadne drank greedily, the flavor of his blood heady and delicious. Eames had to pry her off of him, protesting all the while. Arthur put on a pair of jeans and answered the suite door at the knocking sound, and Ariadne wanted to rush at him and drink more. "Ah, Vincenzo," Arthur murmured. "We weren't sure if it was safe to leave the suite," he began, rubbing the back of his head. Ariadne had dug her fingernails into the soft place beneath his skull as she tried to resist being pulled off of him. "There are no clocks in the room."

Vincenzo bowed. "Sunset is in one hour. I could bring someone up as refreshments, if you cannot wait."

Arthur looked at Ariadne, whose teeth were buried deeply in Eames' throat. "That would probably be best. She's very new and very hungry."

Vincenzo smiled. "Of course. The Countess had prepared for this possibility. I'll get everything ready right away."

Ariadne pulled away with difficulty and sat on the thick carpet, gasping. Her mouth was smeared with blood, and she slowly licked it up. "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking at Arthur and then Eames. "I wasn't even hungry."

"You can crave me anytime, love," Eames said with a playful leer.

Arthur sat down beside her and took up one of her hands. "It's all right. You're new. You'll get used to this."

She turned and looked at him sadly, not sure she wanted to. "It's... weird."

He grinned, looking startlingly young as his eyes crinkled slightly. She had only ever seen him smile at Eames that way. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" He squeezed her hand. "It gets better."

Ariadne devoured the two thieves Vincenzo sent up, then fell asleep on the bed, content. Eames and Arthur locked her into the suite and took off to hunt. They would need to keep their strength up. Kimiko had been a quiet thing, even in her transition, and hadn't been nearly so greedy in the first few days. Ariadne couldn't get enough of their blood, couldn't seem to hold back right away. It was as if all her prior fear and hesitation was gone, and Arthur liked that. He returned to the palazzo first and curled around Ariadne's sleeping form. She burrowed into him in her sleep, nuzzling his chest with her face. He stroked her hair gently, reverently.

"We have forever, Ariadne," he said softly, smiling as she snuffled slightly. "It's going to be wonderful together."

***

Vittorine beamed at the sigh to Ariadne. "Darling, you look _wonderful."_

Ariadne gave her a wan smile, her hand over her stomach. She had slept so deeply during the day that she had been groggy on waking up and wound up feeding off of Eames' femoral artery just fifteen minutes ago. He had clever things to say about that, of course, which had only served to embarrass her further. "I'm... I think I'm settling in," she said hesitantly.

"So sweet," Vittorine commented, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "The pain, it was terrible, was it not? Vincenzo said he could hear the screams through the walls and saw how distressed your loves were."

Her heart seized in her chest at the term, but Vittorine's expression was open and guileless. "It passed," she said finally. "It's... Blurry, almost."

"As it should be. Like childbirth, I say."

"You had a child?" Ariadne asked, frowning. It was hard to think, to track prior conversations. She felt fuzzy around the edges, almost as if she hadn't eaten at all.

"Long time ago, sweetling. My son was stillborn, to add insult to injury," Vittorine said in a quiet voice. Ariadne looked up in concern, but the moment flitted past and Vittorine seemed unperturbed again. "All of my other children were much more sturdy, but they were also dead, of course. Eames is the longest lived of them all, but I do believe that's Arthur's stabilizing influence on him."

"How many...?" Ariadne asked, her voice trailing off. She inhaled deeply, catching the scent of blood from somewhere.

Vittorine laughed. "Oh, what a fledgling you are. Five sons and two daughters, including my poor human son, and only Eames is still living. Very sad, no? They had all been too unstable, Miles says. Bah. What does he care? He still has his flock of human descendants to worry over."

"Ah... I think... I..." she stuttered, inhaling again. There was blood, and it wasn't Vittorine's. She ran her tongue along the pointed edge of her fangs almost unconsciously.

Vittorine peered at Ariadne's face, then smiled. "I hunted before I returned to the palazzo. You can smell her, can't you?"

"I just fed," Ariadne protested. "I shouldn't be hungry."

Smiling indulgently, Vittorine offered her wrist. "You are young, Ariadne. It's hard to resist the scent when it comes."

Shaking her head, Ariadne backed up a step. "I can't control it. I can't stop..."

"So thoughtful," Vittorine commented with a smile. "You can't hurt me, sweetling. Think of this as indulging you. I am your grandmama, after all."

Ariadne blinked in surprise. After a fashion, she supposed that was true. She licked her lips nervously and delicately took Vittorine's proffered wrist. She bit down and drank deeply, forcing herself to stop after a few mouthfuls. Looking up at Vittorine, she was surprised to see a fond smile on her face. "Did I do something wrong?"

Vittorine patted down Ariadne's hair gently. "No, child. You did just fine. You see? It goes well with you after all. How many could have stopped when the temptation was so great?" She leaned over and kissed Ariadne's cheek gently. "Go play with the boys. They care so much for you."

Ariadne shook her head forlornly. "They're just playing with me. They don't... They can't..." She frowned at Vittorine's knowing smile. "I said I'd kill them."

"Of course you did," Vittorine said with a laugh like tinkling bells. She laughed harder at Ariadne's confusion. "Love and hate are the same thing, Ariadne. Two sides of the same coin, both very strong passions. Just feel it and move with it. Everything works out in the end."

"Does it really?"

"Of course it does," Vittorine said, cupping Ariadne's face in her hands. "If you want it to." She smiled at the uncertainty still present in Ariadne's face. "Don't listen to the words, Ariadne. Boys will always be boys, and words are never their weapons. See how they behave. See the gifts they bring you. This will always be true, no matter what the year, no matter if the boy is alive or dead. Boys are all the same, even when they grow and think themselves men."

"I don't understand," Ariadne whispered.

"Because in so many ways, you are still an innocent." Vittorine's smile was almost predatory, and Ariadne was too stunned to move. "But you will, in time. There is time enough for everything now."

Ariadne fled back to the suite she shared with Arthur and Eames.

***  
***


	10. The Giving Of Gifts

Miles was an older appearing man, with white hair, blue eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses and wore a gray suit with blue button down shirt. If anything, he looked like a professor at the university Ariadne had studied at, or a grandfather figure. He smiled in recognition at Arthur and waved him over to where he was standing with Vittorine. There was some kind of package in the basement that he was referring to, which had Vittorine beaming and Arthur looking pleased. Ariadne sighed and looked over at Eames. "You don't know him, then?"

"Oh, I avoid politics like the plague. Possibly a bad reference," he said after a moment, thinking about it. "Miles lived through it a few times, I hear."

"The plague?"

"Yes. Made for nasty-tasting food, from what I heard," Eames said with a smile. Ariadne couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "No cowering for you, love. Miles is here to meet you."

Ariadne thought that meeting Miles would be terrifying, but he was every bit the kindly grandfather figure that he looked like. He grasped her hand on the introductions and took her on a walk in the gardens outside. It was beautiful in the moonlight, and she could see variations in colors that she hadn't noticed before. "Has it been a difficult transition so far?" Miles asked, British accent thick but easy to decipher.

"I think I'm dreaming sometimes," Ariadne murmured softly, not sure what to say. According to Arthur, he was nominally the head of all Western European vampires.

Miles laughed. "Well, I've never heard it described quite that way, but I suppose I could understand that. It's been a very long time since my own transition, so I'm always curious when the new ones are introduced to me."

Ariadne looked at him, trying to figure out a good way of asking his age. "If I may ask...?"

He merely grinned at her. "Vittorine did say you were insatiably curious about everything. Go right on and ask whatever it is."

"How old are you, then?"

"I'm over a thousand years old, Ariadne." He watched the surprise in her features with a small smile. "Quite startling to hear, yes. Perhaps you would like the story?" Ariadne nodded and he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. "I was the village elder many, many years ago. There was a rogue vampire that turned me, believing he could control my village and make it his own personal playground. Nasty fellow, really." Ariadne made sympathetic noises in all the right places, still very confused by what the hell was happening tonight. "I had a mortal family, and they moved to protect me. The rest of the village dragged him out into the sunlight and watched him burn. When they approached me after sundown, they thought that the demon's spell on me would have been removed. Needless to say, it wasn't," he added dryly.

"They obviously didn't kill you."

He laughed. "No, they didn't, but it was a near thing. I transferred control to my eldest son, saying it was for the safety of the village. I said I didn't know when the spell would fade, or if it even would. But I would remain as an advisor to my son, if they would allow such a thing, and they did. There was a lot of trust in me at that time."

"Was it hard watching everyone die?" Ariadne asked in a small voice.

"Was it hard seeing your family dead?" he asked quietly. She nodded mutely, and he patted the hand tucked into his arm. "And so it is always. I did turn one of my sons, and others since then, but the majority of my family has always been mortal. I've always cared after them in my own fashion, watched them grow old and die. It makes me aware of my mortality. Or lack thereof," he added, coming to a stop at the heart of the rose garden. "Some are easier to let go of than others."

"I'm sorry about Mal," Ariadne said in a small voice. "I heard about her through Cobb."

"Oh, yes. My very distant son-in-law, after a fashion," Miles said faintly, looking up at the stars. "I told him to take care of the children. I told him to honor Mal's memory." He looked down at Ariadne with a rueful smile. "I suppose he did, in his own way."

"Are you still upset?"

"Maurice Fischer knows better than to fuck with me now," Miles said, fangs bared. "He likes power and control, that one. Turned his own son and molded him in his own image instead of letting the boy grow up. Foolish man. The younger Fischer might be workable, if anyone actually kills the elder like they always threaten to." Miles sighed and patted Ariadne's hand again. "It made me feel better at the time, but it doesn't replace Mallorie."

"She was well loved," Ariadne offered diplomatically.

"I see why they like you," Miles murmured, half smiling at her. He started walking back toward the palazzo. "You're so very... human, I suppose. You feel things very deeply, don't you? You don't seem like the type to be needlessly cruel."

"I guess?" she said, voice rising in uncertainty.

His smile was almost sinister, and revealed the edge of sharp fangs. "So many of our kind are, you realize. They grow insensitive and bored with time, becoming monstrous things. Some force my hand. I'd rather not get involved in personal affairs if I can help it."

"So why are you here?"

Miles guided her back into the palazzo, which seemed almost obscenely bright after the darkness outside. "Because tradition says that all fledglings are presented to the dominant vampires of the region. The oldest ones are myself, Vittorine, Gregor and Matthias. Neither Gregor or Matthias would care to meet you, I'm afraid. They're in hiding at the moment."

Ariadne's brows knit in confusion. "From what?"

"Me," Miles said with a smile. It almost looked like a kindly professor's smile, but there was underlying steel in his expression. "Politics, my dear. They're ever so complicated."

Vittorine had made Eames change into a more formal suit to match Arthur's while Ariadne and Miles were outside. The three of them were waiting in the ballroom expectantly, and Miles handed Ariadne off to Arthur and Eames. She had her hands folded in front of her, resisting the urge to grab the skirts of her dress and run. Everyone's eyes were on her, as if waiting for something to happen, and she was suddenly feeling very nervous.

"Arthur told me about you a few weeks ago," Miles began, looking at Ariadne contemplatively. "As much of your history as he knew, as well as his plan to eventually turn you. Not asking permission, per se, but he did make a very specific request. He asked if I knew anything about a particular incident that happened a little over a year ago." His gaze was penetrating, and Ariadne felt her heart stop. "I didn't know anything about it at the time, of course, but I've been digging since then."

Ariadne saw Vittorine gesture to someone out of the corner of her eyes, but didn't look to see who it was. Likely Vincenzo, anyway. She was transfixed by Miles' stiff posture and fierce expression. Something annoyed him, and she was starting to get a sense of that inhuman cruelty that he had hinted at.

"I've heard many complaints, but this one had a face to it. This one had a name." Miles' voice was hard, one that no one sane would fuck with. "And better yet, there was a sire to go with the unruly fledgling. Because sires are responsible for their fledglings' actions until their formal introduction to society, or until death." His sinister smile was back, and Ariadne could see his fangs bared. "Neither was done in this case, and the fledgling was all but abandoned after less than a year with his sire perhaps three months before the crimes had been committed. Quite... appalling, really."

Ariadne turned at the sound of chains clinking together. She thought she was about to fall down when she saw who Vincenzo was dragging into the ballroom.

It was the vampire that had killed her parents and sister.

Behind him, Sophie was wringing her hands. Four servants were on either side of her, each holding silver-bladed short swords. She bared her fangs in a hiss of outrage when she saw Ariadne with Arthur and Eames.

"When one of our kind has been wronged so grievously," Miles continued, rocking slowly on his heels, "it must be paid for. This fledgling stole your family from you, Ariadne." He gestured for Vincenzo to drag the vampire forward, and she could see that they were silver chains around his wrists and waist. Silver was highly toxic to young vampires, less so to older ones like Eames or Arthur. Those of even more advanced age barely felt it. "By our traditions, you can exact whatever punishment you like as retribution for your loss."

"She was mortal!" Sophie suddenly screeched, surging forward. The press of silver swords at her sides kept her more or less in place, however. "The traditions don't apply to her!"

"Sophia Maria Therese," Miles began sternly, his eyes locked on Sophie. "We will come to you in turn."

Sophie seemed to cower in fear, and suddenly Ariadne felt almost sorry for her.

"Ariadne," Arthur murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back. "He awaits judgment for his crime. What do you want to do with him?"

"I..."

She could see the blood all over the house, the mangled bodies of her parents and sister, the vampire's face as he ran away. She brought her hands up to her mouth, choking back a sob as she remembered those eyes taunting her a year ago. Her life had been turned upside down because of him. Her family had been _destroyed,_ and she had hated him for so long it felt like forever, like a part of her. It almost seemed like she couldn't remember a time when she didn't hate him, and she hated him for that, too.

Without even thinking, she was tearing at his throat with her teeth and drinking his blood as fast as it was pumped out of his neck. She could hear Sophie screaming distantly behind her, but she couldn't hear anything over the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears. All she knew was the taste of his fear on her tongue.

He was drained completely dry when she was done, eyes staring up glassily at the ceiling. It didn't mean he was meeting his final death; any blood crossing his lips could possibly reverse the damage she had just done. Ariadne staggered backward when she realized that the fledgling wasn't moving. She looked up at Miles with a frightened expression, then turned to Vittorine before spinning around to look at Arthur and Eames.

Not one of them seemed surprised by her reaction. Not one of them condemned her for it.

"Do you wish him to receive his final death?" Miles asked in a mild tone.

Ariadne spun around again, feeling as though she was about to fall over. "Wh-what?"

"He's not truly dead until staked or burned. Do you wish this to be the price he pays for his transgression?"

Ariadne thought of the burning hunger in the pit of her stomach that came over her at odd intervals, the cacophony of sound and sensation, the fear that threatened to overwhelm her at times. He had only been formed about two years ago, and had no one to guide him through it. She understood him suddenly, and found her hatred fading away. She shook her head slowly. "I... I think I'm done."

Miles nodded. "Merciful of you, Ariadne." He nodded at Vittorine. "You may take him, then, as he's without a sire and will need to be taught the traditions properly."

"Of course," Vittorine replied, sketching a low bow. She gestured at the corpse, and Vincenzo whisked it away.

"And that leaves the negligent sire."

Sophie was prodded forward, her chin lofted. "Gregor will come for me. Gregor..."

"Is not here," Miles said simply, cutting off what likely would spiral into a rant. "The fact remains, you were negligent, and upset the balance and order of the territories I oversee."

"He was an accident. He meant nothing."

Miles' eyes narrowed at Sophie. "Did he?"

"He looked like an old friend," Sophie said with an apologetic smile. "I was confused. It was just a mistake."

"Turning someone is a privilege, Sophia," Miles said. He gestured for her to come forward. She refused, staying stubbornly still. "Come _here,_ Sophia." There was quiet menace in his tone, and the smile slid off of Sophie's face. She stepped forward, Vittorine's guards around her. "Open your mouth."

Sophie's lips trembled. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It was an accident! It was just an accident!"

Miles looked at Vittorine with a bored sigh. "Seize her head and open her mouth for me."

Sophie wailed as Vittorine pushed her to her knees and grasped her jaws, wrenching them open. Miles withdrew a pair of pliers from the pocket of his suit jacket and calmly removed Sophie's fangs, ignoring her screams of pain and rage. Once removed, Vittorine threw Sophie down to the ground and backed up. Miles gestured for Ariadne to come forward, patiently waiting until she did so with a frightened expression.

Miles tucked the two fangs into Ariadne's hand, curling her fingers over them. "Her fledgling did the direct damage, but the fault was hers for not training him properly. This is her payment to you for the crime. I consider this matter concluded."

Sophie was sobbing, bloody tracks running down her face as she held a hand to her mouth. Ariadne looked at her in horror. "Will she die?"

"There are other ways to open a vein," Miles remarked blandly. "But she will never again use her gifts so lightly."

Vittorine nodded at her guards, and two of them took Sophie by the arms and guided her up and out of the ballroom. She approached Ariadne with a smile. "I can have those strung on a necklace for you, if you like."

Ariadne was tempted to toss the teeth to the ground. "Um. No. Where...?" She held her hand out in front of her and made a moue of distaste. "Can I get rid of these now?"

Eames grinned and took the fangs from her. "I'll put 'em away, poppet."

Arthur gently took her hands in his. "Justice was served tonight, Ariadne." He took in her wide-eyed expression. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," she said in a small voice.

He kissed her forehead tenderly. "We'll figure it out together, Ariadne."

"So romantic," Vittorine sighed dreamily. She turned and curtsied deeply toward Miles. "You honor me with your presence, Miles. Ever a pleasure."

Miles laughed. "You make my job easy, Vittorine."

She laughed in return. "Would you stay? I have refreshments put aside."

"Perhaps one night would be good," he agreed. He extended an arm and Vittorine moved to his side to take it. "I haven't been to Florence in recent years. I've been in Paris since the Revolution, so this is a nice change of pace."

"I've always had a fond spot for Florence. You've seen the gardens," she said as they moved out of the ballroom, leaving Ariadne alone with Arthur and Eames. "But there's also a hedge maze beyond it..."

Ariadne looked all around her with wide, frightened eyes, not sure what to say. "I think I need to go," she whispered.

Arthur nodded, stroking her arm. "Come on. Let's get changed into something less formal and visit a club in town."

She looked at him in terror. "Is that safe? With me... like this?"

He cupped her face in his hands. "Yes. It's safe because you're with us. Because we will always be with you, because we're going to make sure you're fine."

She trembled slightly in the wake of his intense gaze. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

Ariadne nodded and followed them. She felt unsteady and wobbly, but it wasn't a physical issue at that moment. She didn't know how she should respond to what had just happened, or what it all meant. It was easier to let them do the thinking, to let them guide her where she was supposed to go. It was easier not to think, not to feel. This wasn't the same as before, though. It had been a detachment earlier, rather than an overwhelmed numbness. Ariadne suspected that at some point soon, she would simply explode, and that the two of them would bear the brunt of it.

***

The club was full and bursting with people in various states of undress. Ariadne wanted to cry as the scent of perfume and sweat and blood and sex came to her. She clung to Arthur and Eames desperately, sure she was about to do something so very stupid. After what had happened in the palazzo earlier, any mistakes she made would come down not only onto her head, but theirs as well. Arthur was a solid presence beside her, and Eames was at her back. "You can do this," Arthur told her, confidence in his voice. "We're here with you. We won't let anything happen to you, Ariadne."

She shivered, but nodded slightly. No time like the present to find out just how much of a monster she was becoming.

The music rolled through her, overwhelming her hearing and leaving her breathless. Arthur spun her around and had her propped up along the wall. Head bowed, Ariadne struggled to get herself under control. It was constant temptation in the club, all those half naked bodies gyrating on the floor, but they had made sure she felt calm and full before they had even left the palazzo.

"Deep breaths," Arthur murmured, body pressing hers against the wall to ground her.

"I smell them," she whispered.

"Yes. It's all right. Pick one scent, just one, see if you can follow it back to its owner."

"What?"

"Just try it. Focus. Pick one and _focus._ You can do this. I know you can. I trust you."

She looked up at him with startled eyes, seeing the honesty there. "Oh."

He smiled at her and pulled back slightly, just enough so that she could leave his side without knocking him down. "I'll keep an eye on you. So will Eames."

"You both... You care so much..."

His fingers trailed along her bare arm. "Sh... That's not important right now. Focus. Keep to one thing at a time until you can hold it comfortably."

She nodded slowly and saw Eames lounging at the bar. He caught her eye with a half smile, a glass of whiskey in hand. He would watch over her, too.

All right. She could do this. She could do anything if she put her mind to it.

Ariadne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her heart seized when she smelled something familiar. She could remember her sister suddenly, brushing her hair and singing along with the radio, her voice cracking on the high notes. She had worn this same scent, had been wearing it the day she died.

Moving with a purpose, she set out from Arthur's side and started moving through the crowd, following the perfume.

She wound her way through the crowd on the dance floor, following the scent as it grew stronger. She was following someone's path, twisting and turning amidst the bodies, moving in time with the steady bass beneath the melody of the music. She had her eyes closed, arms up, swaying as she moved through the crowd. She could hear every heartbeat in the club, every breath heaving, every groan and attempt at conversation. She tuned it out, rather like tuning out noises when she had to do her readings for class, or ignoring the pain in her body when Cobb had pushed her past her limits in training. She was focused on the perfume, following the twisting path the girl had taken across the dance floor, the scent mixing with someone else's in places. He didn't have good intentions; she didn't know how she knew, but there was something about the male's scent that sent warning bells rolling down her spine.

Ariadne found the girl sitting on the floor just outside the bathrooms, wedged into the corner, knees drawn up to her chest. She was crying, mascara tracks running thick and muddy along her cheeks. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly, stopping short in front of the girl. She looked up at Ariadne, fear and anguish on her face, but no comprehension of English. Ariadne didn't know any Italian, and wracked her brain for any phrase that might be its equivalent.

After a moment, though, the girl seemed to understand Ariadne's intent. "Okay," she said in accented English. "I okay. Go now."

The girl was clearly not okay, but there was little Ariadne could do for her. She could feel Arthur's presence behind her, knew that he could see the girl in the corner of the hallway. Ariadne nodded stiffly and backed up, heading for Arthur. "She's hurt."

His face was blank, and she couldn't see his eyes very well. "What do you want to do?" he asked, no inflection in his voice.

"I want to find the bastard that did it to her."

"You know how to find him," Arthur told her quietly.

She did, she suddenly realized. The dangerous scent was there, and she followed it out of the club. Arthur and Eames followed her silently out into the alleyway. She didn't question why she was doing this. That girl wasn't her sister, wasn't someone she knew. She was nobody, a stranger, someone used roughly and left behind to deal with the mess.

Just thinking about that made her angry.

The man was fucking some girl in the alleyway, her skirt rucked up and her legs locked around his bared waist. He came and withdrew as Ariadne approached, and the woman was saying something in Italian that got him to slap her across the face. The movement made the woman turn and notice Ariadne, and she said something else in Italian in a snarl that universally meant that he was a goddamn asshole and she never wanted to see him again.

She left the alley, rearranging her clothes without a backward glance. Ariadne didn't bother to look at her as she left. Her eyes were trained on the man and he zipped up casually, a swagger in his stance as he looked at her and said something in Italian. It was no doubt filthy.

"What do you want to do?" Arthur asked quietly, perhaps ten feet behind her. Eames was silent.

Ariadne had her teeth in his neck before she could even think, her grip on his shoulders painfully tight. She forced herself to stop after a minute, and she staggered backward. Eames caught her, and she turned her head to see what happened to the man. He was caught in Arthur's grip, head tilted up to meet his eyes. Arthur was speaking in perfect Italian, gaze impassive and cold. When Arthur was done, the man ran out of the alley without a backward glance.

Ariadne was shaking in Eames' arms, her teeth clacking together. She was making low, desperate noises, not sure if she wanted to say something. She looked between the two of them with wild eyes, feeling as though she was drowning. Arthur opened his arms and embraced them both. Instead of feeling smothered, Ariadne felt safe. They wouldn't let anything happen to her. They wouldn't let her do something stupid. She would be fine.

She was still shaking, though, and after a moment, Arthur pressed his lips against her temple. "Do you want to go back inside?" She shook her head violently. "Not to feed, Ariadne. To dance. This is the adrenaline now. You're crashing off the adrenaline." She still shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Arthur backed up a few steps and offered his hand to her. "You can hear the music out here?" She nodded tremulously. It was hard to miss the thunderous bass line of the club's music. "Then dance with me here. It's okay. We're alone, and it'll take the edge off."

With shaky steps, she came forward and crashed into him. They started dancing to the music, her body moving in frantic, jerky motions. He made gentle, shushing sounds, his hands moving over her rhythmically. Ariadne felt Eames press himself against her back, shifting her hips so that they pressed against Arthur's. Slowly, her body seemed to settle, and her heart stopped tripping in her chest. She wound one arm around Arthur and reached behind her for Eames, taking in great, gulping breaths. "That's it," Arthur murmured. "That's it. Just move with it. Let it out."

Their motions slowed over the next several minutes, and soon they were simply swaying together. "It's better now," Ariadne whispered when she could trust herself to speak. It was almost painful to see the understanding in Arthur's eyes. "I think."

"You'll be fine," he said with a soft, gentle smile.

"Is this how you did it?" she asked, looking between the both of them.

"It was a different time," Arthur began slowly.

Eames was shrugging. "I just went to town, but..." he trailed off at Arthur's glare. "Yeah, different time, that. Underground and all that."

Arthur grasped her face in his hands. "It gets better. It's easier to control, something less frightening. You're safe with us, Ariadne. You're already doing really well controlling yourself."

"I don't feel like I am," she whispered, shaking her head. She grasped his forearms and blinked back tears that threatened to form. "I don't feel like myself."

"Sh..." Arthur murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. "That's the fear talking. You're the same. Nothing's changed about you, nothing. We're still here, still with you. Nothing has changed between us."

Eames ran his hands along her back and leaned down to press his lips to her neck. "Ariadne," he murmured, making her shiver. "Give it time. You can't master this overnight. Everything takes time to get right."

"Let's go back."

Ariadne nodded, taking in air in great, nervous gulps. "Yeah. Too much for one night."

She slept the sleep of the dead that night.

***  
***


	11. Drowning In Time

Ariadne woke slowly. She turned onto her side and saw Arthur holding Eames down on the bed, their mouths molded together. Eames had his legs splayed wide, and she could see a fine tremor rolling through him. Arthur's fingers moved restlessly over his wrists, nails scratching at the soft skin. Arthur broke the kiss to move down and kiss Eames' neck and chest, teeth scraping at the skin lightly, tenderly. Eames bit his lip as he arched into Arthur's touch, trying to be quiet. Ariadne supposed that they hadn't wanted to wake her. She watched Arthur move slowly and deliberately, lips and tongue and teeth dragging over the skin to make Eames hiss out his breath. His hips moved slowly as well, pushing in and out of Eames methodically. "Hurry," Eames gasped out at one point, barely above a whisper. Arthur smiled against his chest as he shook his head, making Eames mutter a low curse.

Once Arthur's breath and movements began to quicken, he moved to kiss Eames again. It was a more passionate kiss, and Arthur shifted one of his hands to grasp Eames by the back of the head so he could deepen the kiss. His entire body tightened, and then Eames moved quickly to roll Arthur onto his back. He noticed Ariadne watching and winked at her lewdly. He hovered above Arthur for a moment, then thrust deeply inside of him, hard enough to rock the bed and make the headboard hit the wall. Arthur groaned and twisted beneath him, catching Ariadne's eye. He reached out and grasped her hand tightly as Eames fucked him hard, making him cry out in pleasure. Ariadne tentatively pressed her lips against the inside of Arthur's wrist, which was apparently just enough to get him howling in release.

Sticky with blood, the two men settled down back into bed. "Good wake up call, eh?" Eames asked with a leer. Arthur swatted his head tiredly, rolling his eyes.

Ariadne gave them a soft, shy smile. She was almost wondering why the scent of their blood wasn't tripping her up, since it had only been a few weeks since she had been turned. She decided not to follow that train of thought. There lay the stuff of nightmares, she was certain.

Arthur ran his fingers along her arm and watched her shiver. "Better?" She nodded wordlessly. He pulled her arm to him and kissed the inside of her wrist with the same tenderness she had just shown him. "Good."

"Is this how your life goes?" she asked softly, rolling onto her stomach.

"For the most part," Arthur said with a quiet nod.

"It's a good life, yeah?" Eames added, dropping his chin onto Arthur's shoulder.

"I guess," Ariadne replied, though she sounded uncertain. "You get bored easily, you said."

"Sometimes," Eames agreed as Arthur nodded.

"So what keeps you going? Why do you bother?"

"Everyone's different," Arthur said slowly, carefully contemplating an answer for her. "Nobody has the same thing that's their purpose in life."

"Or unlife," Eames remarked musingly. "I mean, I used to live for jobs. I was cracking good at it. Not much point in it now, though."

Ariadne nodded slowly, looking a little distant. "You should wash up."

"Don't want to add to the mess, love?" Eames taunted. She smiled and shook her head. "Your loss, then."

She watched as he sauntered to the adjoining bath. "What do you do?" she asked Arthur quietly. "Why go on as long as you have?"

He ran his fingers along her cheek gently, with a tenderness she didn't want to feel. "Sometimes it's all I know. It's a story for another day, I think."

"Why?" she asked, eyebrows knit in confusion. "Why not now? Are we doing something else?"

 _"I'm_ not ready," he admitted quietly. He sat up slowly, and Ariadne turned her head to watch him as he moved. He trailed his fingers down her spine, watching her shiver with a sad look on his face. "Some days are better than others. It'll always be like that. Today isn't a good day for me."

She turned to lie on her back. "Can I ask why?"

Arthur smiled at her, as though he was simultaneously amused and frustrated with her persistence. "It's my birthday, Ariadne."

She blinked at him. "Oh. Is this a bad thing?"

"I hate anniversaries, and I seem to collect so many of them. Didn't you wonder why we went away for the holidays? I hate them. I hate winter, and I hate my birthday."

Ariadne caught the undercurrent in his voice. "Bad things happened to you, didn't it?"

"They always do," he said shortly. "So, if I'm even more quiet today, that's why."

She sat up and impulsively threw her arms around him, tucking her face against his shoulder. _"Bon anniversaire,"_ she whispered softly. "Maybe this year it'll be different."

He reached up and clasped his hand over hers. "Well, this year I have you." He laughed a little. "Eames always seems to think he can just fuck the memories into submission."

"Does it work?" Ariadne asked, smiling against his shoulder. That sounded like Eames.

"Sometimes. Just often enough to encourage the bastard."

"I heard that!" Eames said, diving across the bed to fetch up next to them. He propped his chin up on Arthur's leg. "C'mon. I'm from the Vittorine school of dealing with problems."

"Which is?" Ariadne asked in arch tones.

"Leave the country, find a new fuck buddy or do some serious drugs. They'll still be there when you get back, but at least you know you've had a good time."

Ariadne laughed as Arthur smiled. "That can't possibly work."

"It's a distraction, and sometimes that's all you need for some perspective."

"We're running out of places to run," Arthur murmured.

"There's always going back," Ariadne replied gently, running her hand over his chest. "There's always just facing it."

"You seem so certain that will work."

"Well, have you tried it?"

He laughed a little tiredly, shaking his head. "Hell, no."

"Then what's the harm?"

"There's nothing left to see. Everything's paved over and new. Nothing's left."

"There's the vineyard," Eames murmured softly, petting Arthur's knee. "It's close, you said. And the trust is still paying for its upkeep. Maybe this year we'll actually hire on staff to do something about the vines, make our own wine. Start up a small local business."

Ariadne didn't miss Arthur's pained flinch, and wondered at it. "It's your decision, Arthur," she said quietly.

He looked at her, his hand tight over hers. "Do you want to go back there?"

"I don't know what I want," she said honestly. "But we can't stay here forever."

"It was a good place to start the new year, though," Eames said with a smile. He rubbed a fang against the inside of Arthur's thigh. "A new year with the three of us together as vampires. C'mon, Arthur. Stop being the broody bastard for a change. It's your fucking birthday. Time to celebrate that for once."

He sighed. "If I play along with this idea, will you shut the fuck up?"

"Maybe. For a week. Or a day, most likely." He grinned unrepentantly and playfully dragged his teeth across Arthur's knee. "Spring's coming. New life and all that rot. At least pretend for Ariadne's sake. You'll make her get all sad, too."

She had lost track of time. They had left the vineyard sometime in November, Christmas Eve had been their last night in Monaco and on New Year's Day they had turned her. It was March first, and she had completely forgotten about her family's murders. She had been otherwise occupied wondering if the two of them would kill her. "Oh. I can't believe I'd forgotten," she murmured softly, almost to herself.

"What?"

"My parents. My sister. I didn't remember the day they died. I was with you two. Before Nash and Cobol checked out the vineyard."

Arthur's hand tightened over hers in support. "You got closure, though. You made him pay for what he did."

He had arranged it, and Vittorine had called it a grand, romantic gesture. Ariadne still didn't know what she thought about it. She nodded against his shoulder, and it seemed to calm him down somewhat. Eames got up from his lounging position and threw his arms around them both. "All right, my loves. This is what we're going to do. We're going to get dressed and pretend to have a good time. And before you know it, we will be."

"Eames..." Arthur began in protest.

"And then we'll go to the cemetery and pay our respects to our dead," he continued, cutting off Arthur's words. He kissed Ariadne's temple tenderly. "Then we go to the vineyard. Sounds like a plan, yeah?"

Ariadne knew that the only dead they were referring to was her family. Touched, she nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

Arthur smiled wanly. "Then let's do it."

***

The wind whipped past her face, making her hair fly into her eyes and mouth. Her father had been a professor at the Université Stendhal, which was part of the Université Grenoble. He had mostly taught the students from the United States doing a semester abroad, and Ariadne had attended classes there. It had been somewhat awkward at first, but it was nice to see each other during lunch times or after hours. Because she had been a wreck at the time, her parents and sister had been buried in Grenoble, rather than being flown back to the United States. They had lived in the area for nearly six years anyway, so Grenoble was as much home as the United States had been. Ariadne probably knew more about Grenoble history, art and culture anyway. Ariadne had been unable to stay there alone, and especially not in the house her family had been living in. She somehow wound up in Serres, to the south of the city, and that was where Cobb found her.

She stared at the stones, chosen by the funeral director. She hadn't met him, had never spoken with him. She had been totally overwhelmed by grief and anger, and decisions had been made for her the entire time. Tears had blurred her vision during the funeral, and she had taken off less than a week later, severing ties with everything she had ever known.

This was the first time she had really seen the final resting place of her family. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she knelt in front of the stones and traced the carvings there. The marble was smooth, the etchings still sharp to the touch.

Ariadne didn't even realize she was sobbing until she felt Arthur and Eames kneel down beside her. Eames pried her hands open; she hadn't even felt the thorns of the roses digging into her palm and drawing blood. The past year's grief she hadn't allowed herself to feel came pouring out of her, and she was howling in pain and rage. It wasn't even anger at that vampire anymore, but a helpless rage for all the time with them that had been stolen from her.

Arthur was kissing her face, licking at her cheeks, and Eames merely kept his arms around her middle, his face pressed tight to her shoulder. "Let it out, poppet," he murmured. "We're here with you now. You're not alone in this."

"It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not _fair!"_ she wailed.

"No, it never is," Arthur murmured, understanding all too clear in his voice.

Her sobs quieted, and she looked down at her open palms. They were unmarred, even though dried blood coated the thorns of the roses she had brought for her sister. "I miss them." She looked up at Arthur with a plaintive expression, and she could see her pain mirrored in his eyes. "I miss them so much."

"Tell us about them," he said softly, taking her hands in his. Eames shifted position so that he was seated on the ground beside her, his hands on the slope of her thigh. Understanding was in his gaze too; even if he hadn't cared overmuch for his mortal family, he still knew what it was like to lose someone he had loved.

Quietly, stuttering in places and doubling back or rambling in others, Ariadne began to talk. She described her father's office at the university, what it had been like to move to Grenoble, making friends and being the awkward American girl playing at being French. She talked about dating a boy she had met while in high school, about her mother being so upset when she dyed streaks of color into her hair. She described how proud she had been to get into the university, even if she didn't know what she wanted to do, just because it had pleased her parents. Her sister had been annoying at times, taking her clothes or stealing her lipstick. The perfume had been her own idea, her own little touch of individuality. She had loved high heels and dressing up, makeup and boys and romantic movies. She couldn't sing but did anyway, and Ariadne had sometimes gotten into screaming matches with her over chores.

It had all been so very normal, snatched away in an instant.

"Hey," Eames murmured when she fell silent. "Any better?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

"C'mon. Sunrise is in another two hours. We can settle into a hotel somewhere, sleep the day away. We'll come back tomorrow."

"We'll stay as long as you need us to," Arthur murmured.

"Thank you."

Eames leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "All right, love. Sleepy time soon."

Ariadne waited with Eames as Arthur obtained a single room with a king size bed. She studiously avoided looking around the area; it was all too familiar from the years she had lived there. Eames seemed to understand her unwillingness to talk, and simply held her hand tightly as they waited in the van that Vittorine had given them when they left Florence. She tumbled into the bed as Arthur shut the drapes tight against the windows and Eames put up the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. Face down over the coverlet, Ariadne didn't want to feel anything. She should have died with her family, right? If she had been home that night, she would have died, too. If she hadn't been so mean to her sister, flouncing out of the house, perhaps her sister would be alive.

Too many if onlys, and it only served to make her feel worse.

She burrowed into the others' arms when they came to bed, and she shut her eyes tight. The sun would rise soon, and she would have time to sleep. Maybe she wouldn't dream about them. Maybe for a little while, she could forget.

If only she didn't feel guilty about that, too.

***

Ariadne came awake slowly during the day, not quite ready to be conscious. She could hear Arthur and Eames talking in low voices, though they didn't sound particularly happy. Almost despite herself, she started listening in.

"You can't avoid it forever, darling," Eames was saying. "It's _my_ job to be the avoidant one, yes?"

"Fuck off," Arthur replied, irritated, flopping down onto the chair by the desk in the room. "We go through iterations of this conversation every year."

"Then do something different for a change," Eames replied, crossing his arms. "Hols through March is always one big party, you disappear for Bastille Day and the rest of the time you're a stick in the mud. Change it up. Deal with the shit."

"I do deal, thank you very much," Arthur replied with a snarl.

Eames shrugged, not perturbed in the slightest. "Yes, by fucking around and making yourself look like the big bad vampire for a while." Uncrossing his arms, he approached Arthur and gently took his face in his hands. "I can deal with that shite. Don't make Ariadne go through it, too."

Arthur sighed and let his eyes fall shut. "Eames..."

"Don't be such a hypocrite, darling. You make her deal with her grief, then you have to as well."

"God, I want to smash your teeth in."

"Is that foreplay?" Eames taunted, running his thumbs over Arthur's bottom lip. "I do so enjoy it when you play the lovesick puppy."

"Shut up."

"Definitely hit a nerve there. No foul language," he said with a smile.

"I don't know if I can," Arthur said softly, looking up at Eames with an almost plaintive expression. "Nothing's there anymore. Nothing's the way I remember it."

"Times changed," Eames agreed. "But something must be similar. This place is full of history. You can't say everything's been erased."

"Everything that once was mine, yes."

"The house and the grounds at the vineyard are too similar, you said. That's why you couldn't stay for hols."

Arthur flinched. "In some ways..."

"Then we go back there next. And this time, you don't fucking run on Bastille Day. You sit and you deal with it, and at some point you'll talk about why you hate it so much."

"Why don't you push me?" Arthur asked softly, looking up. "You push for everything else, why not this?"

"Because I'm not _that_ much of a bastard," Eames said, letting his hands slide down Arthur's neck to his shoulders. "Because even I won't pick at that raw a wound."

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing you any favors," he disagreed. "I've just helped you hide for the past eighty-seven years."

"Still, thank you."

"I won't let you make Ariadne go through that," Eames continued as if Arthur hadn't spoken. "The broody antihero went out of style with the Roaring Twenties."

Arthur grinned. "Well, you're old fashioned."

"Lucky for you," Eames said with a nod. "I'm actually serious about this for a change, you know."

"I know," Arthur replied, covering one of Eames' hands with one of his own. "I know. And I keep meaning to, but..."

"This time I'm going to kick you in the balls if you run away. Got it?"

"All right. I promise. This time I'll sit in the goddamn house on Bastille Day."

"Good. It's a start."

Ariadne waited a beat and made a big show of stretching on the bed. They turned toward her with soft smiles. "Hey. How are you doing?" Eames asked. Arthur simply looked at her with large, round eyes.

"Okay at the moment. Kind of hungry."

"C'mere, then," Eames said. "Take a nosh."

Ariadne scrambled off of the bed and took his proffered wrist. He let out a soft sigh as she drank from him, stroking the back of her bent head with his other hand. Arthur ran a hand along the curve of her back, watching her silently. She let go of Eames and licked the blood off of her teeth as the wound sealed up. She turned to Arthur, still seated on the chair with a faint sadness in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he replied, running his hand down the curve of her backside to the backs of her legs. "I will be."

She moved to straddle him, her chest in line with his face. "Are you sure?"

Arthur tilted his head back to look at her in the eyes. "Yes, I will be fine."

It was a qualified response, but she accepted it just the same. She leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, running her fingers through his dark hair. He wound his arms around her, responding to her kiss. "Am I needed, love?" Eames asked behind her in an amused tone.

Ariadne pulled back and kept her eyes on Arthur. "I don't know. Is he?"

Arthur smiled and pulled at her sweater. "Maybe," he said slowly, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Maybe he should just watch."

"He'd enjoy that too much," Ariadne said with a smile, pulling everything off so that she was bare above the waist. She sucked in a breath when Arthur leaned forward and took her breast into his mouth, her nipple on his tongue. "Oh," she sighed, tangling her fingers in his hair. "Oh." He left one hand splayed across her back to support her as he slid his other hand down the back of her jeans. "More," she whispered softly, head thrown back.

He gently pushed her back and they tackled her denims together. Arthur pulled her down onto the bed, but instead of lying on top of her or having her lie down on top of him, he had her back to his front, both of them facing Eames. "How far do you think we can take this?" he asked, lips by Ariadne's ear. He had one hand sliding down to the juncture of her thighs as the other reached up to caress a breast. "How long before he demands to join in?"

Ariadne gave a soft whimper as he slid two fingers inside of her, his palm rubbing against her clit. She spread her legs wide, knowing that Eames was watching them with avid eyes, and tilted her head back so that it lolled on Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur," she moaned softly, tilting her hips toward his hand. "Oh, god, Arthur..."

Eames came to rest beside them on the bed and slid a hand across Ariadne's stomach. He nipped at her exposed breast playfully, then began to suckle in earnest. Ariadne shifted restlessly between them, panting and moaning before crying out with release. Arthur shifted position and licked his slicked fingers before opening the front of his trousers enough to slide into her. Eames actually tugged them down to his knees, then moved to kiss the side of his hip as he moved inside of Ariadne. Arthur let out a groan as her body clenched around him and Eames slid a finger inside of him. After a few minutes of that, Eames slid deeply inside of Arthur, pushing him farther into Ariadne. She let out a strangled moan as she came, back arched and fingers clenched tightly on Arthur's hips. He groaned, shuddering above her, and Eames bit down hard on the side of his neck.

Arthur came, his entire body tightening, head thrown back. It exposed the long column of his throat. When he fell forward on top of her, Ariadne buried her fangs in his neck, clutching him tightly to her, fingers twined in his hair. "God, yes," he moaned into her ear, sounding ecstatic. He grunted when Eames collapsed down on top of him.

"Off," Ariadne gasped, letting go of Arthur and shoving at them. "One is enough, but two? Way too heavy."

Arthur laughed and shifted position, making Eames fall to the side. He pulled Ariadne against him and tucked an arm around her. He nuzzled her neck lovingly, and kissed the side of her jaw. It changed nothing between the three of them, she knew. They were still dancing around grief, still pretending everything was all right.

Her chest felt a little hollow. What the hell was she doing? She couldn't care about them, could she? She shouldn't actually want to keep this up.

She was tired, though. It was easier to simply fall sleep and not think. That way led to even worse emotions.

***  
***


	12. In The Shadow Of Death

When they arrived at the vineyard a week later, it was exactly as Ariadne remembered it. There was a fine layer of dust over everything, indicating that no one had been through the house in the five months they had been gone. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but the first few nights were a flurry of activity to clean out the house and make it feel more comfortable to live in.

It was quiet in the countryside, spring just starting to settle in. New beginnings, Eames had said, but she felt hollow looking out over the empty fields around the house. This had been someone's hobby vineyard; the fields were much too small for this to be a large commercial project. That was probably why no one had come looking for the missing family. Bills continued to be paid, there was the appearance of life, and Eames and Arthur kept a low profile. They ranged far for their hunting in the countryside, and they didn't kill when they fed for the most part. Ariadne didn't think she had the same kind of control over her hunger yet, being not even four months old as a vampire yet.

Her hands shook and she sat down heavily in the room where her things had been kept. She had been moving things out of this smaller bedroom into the master bedroom. Before, she had never wanted to admit that she wanted to be with two vampires. Now, it was out of necessity. She couldn't go into the sun anymore, and the only sunrises or sunsets she would ever see would be on TV or a movie screen.

Or if she followed Kimiko's example and walked into the sun.

Shivering, she forced herself to get up and go through the motions. She wouldn't think of death just yet; stakes, fire and sunlight were the only surefire means anyway.

Arthur seemed to be his usual calm self, though it was almost April. Apparently he wouldn't start to get antsy until July, when it was Bastille Day. There would be other moments, but the worst times were Bastille Day, the holidays and his birthday on 1 March. Ariadne wondered how they could be together for over eighty years and not discuss the why of things, but she supposed it was easily ignored most of the time. They were damn near immortal; there would always be another opportunity to discuss things, and the days simply slid together most of the time. It was hard to think about time; she had arrived in the vineyard back in September planning to kill them, and now she willingly shared their bed and was a vampire like they were. There had to be something seriously wrong with her.

"I'm heading out," Eames said, ducking his head into the room. "You're okay with unpacking and all that on your own?"

She looked up. "Yeah. Just remembering. I'm okay."

He gave her an encouraging smile. "It gets better, love. I'll be back in a little bit."

"Is Arthur still here?"

"He took off about five minutes ago, actually. He should be back soon, too. I think he was going to go uphill, so I'm heading to the valley. Want me to bring you back something?"

Ariadne smiled at his thoughtfulness, then shook her head. "I think I'm okay. I haven't done anything particularly stressful since I fed yesterday."

Eames nodded. "Right, then. I'll get myself sorted, and then we'll go out for the evening."

"Sounds good to me," she said brightly, even if she didn't feel it.

He must have heard the false note to her voice, because he frowned slightly. "Are you sure, Ariadne? I can wait. It's not a big deal, if you would rather not be alone."

Ariadne waved him off and pasted a smile onto her face. "No, no. You go take care of it. I'll be fine, I promise. You don't need to watch over me every second of every day."

"Well, true," Eames agreed easily enough. He came into the room and gave her a hug. "I just worry sometimes, you know? Sometimes you're adjusting well, and at others..." He stroked the curve of her cheek tenderly. "Sometimes I feel there's a sadness there we just can't touch. There's some part of you in there that will just hate us, no matter how much we show you we're not the monsters you thought we were."

She pasted a smile on her face. "Aren't you the one that said not to get maudlin?"

"Yeah, I did say that," Eames replied with a nod. "After all, I can only handle one morose bastard in this trio, and that's not you. Arthur's got that one cornered, though he's at least out of that kind of black mood."

"I'll be _fine,_ Eames," Ariadne said with a touch of impatience. "No need to coddle me. I'm stronger than that."

"Right-o, then." He dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "Be back as soon as I can."

"Don't hurry on my account. I'm just moving things. That's the boring stuff."

"True enough," he laughed, heading out of the room with a wave. "I'll see you soon."

It was awkward, moving her things from one bedroom that wasn't hers into another one that wasn't hers. There were some belongings from the former owners that seemed to fit her pretty well; the daughter had been petite as well.

Ariadne saw a familiar phone in the dresser as she started putting her things away. Frowning, she flipped it open. There was her background photo of a sunrise, and all her old programmed phone numbers as well as a few new ones that must have been put in by Arthur or Eames. Chilled at the sight of it, she scrolled through the phone book feature until she saw Yusuf's name. He would care what happened to her. He would have worried about her. He would be concerned, though as a hunter he would be horrified by what she had become.

She had hit the button to dial his number before she even realized what she was doing. Numb with shock, she lifted her phone to her ear. Its battery was fully charged and she had full bars for signal in the house. She heard the ring, and then Yusuf's concerned "Hello? Ariadne? Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

"Yusuf?" she asked, sinking down to the floor, her back against the dresser.

"Ariadne, thank Allah, that's you! I was afraid you were dead!"

Ariadne began to cry, which only seemed to make Yusuf even more upset. He tried to make comforting noises as she sobbed. "Cobb's dead," she finally choked off. "He was killed back in September. There were two... Cobb's dead..."

"Slow down," Yusuf pleaded. "What the hell happened?"

"We went to check out a site. Oh God, Yusuf, everything happened so fast. I couldn't shoot fast enough, I couldn't stop them, I couldn't do anything and he's dead because of me."

"Sh... Ariadne. Come on. He knew the score. You don't go hunting without knowing you could die at any moment. I'm just glad you're all right. I was worried about _you."_

"Yusuf," Ariadne sobbed, wiping at her eyes. She let out a high pitched wail when she saw the blood smeared across the back of her hands. It was a stark reminder that she was dead, she was a vampire, she was the very thing that Yusuf helped to hunt.

"Ariadne, what is it? _What is it?"_

"Oh God, oh, oh... God, I can't even... I'm dead, Yusuf, I'm dead, I'm dead, my tears are blood, oh God, Yusuf..."

She dropped the phone and thought she was about to throw up, and continued to sob. Yusuf was screaming for her to pick up the phone, goddammit, or else he was going to triangulate the location of her cell phone and hop on a plane to wherever she was. Gingerly, aware of her blood smeared hands, Ariadne picked up the phone and sniffled.

"Okay." Yusuf took a deep breath. "Let me get this straight, if I can. You and Cobb went hunting and found a nest. He died. So did you?"

"Not then," she whispered, and heard his breath hitch over the phone.

Yusuf took another deep breath. "Are you saying they _turned_ you?"

"Yes," she said, her voice fracturing slightly. "I... I didn't really stop them. I couldn't. I... I don't even know how I feel about it. How I feel about them. I don't... I don't know. I don't know how to feel anymore. Am I monster, Yusuf? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Calm down," he said slowly. She could tell he was thinking carefully. It was the same tone of voice he used with out of control hunters, talking them down from whatever nonsense they had planned for themselves. It was comforting to hear. "All right. I'm... I'm trying to get my brain around this, I'll admit. You're a vampire now?"

"Yes. I've... I've killed people. And not killed people. And..." Ariadne let out a shaky breath. "I don't even know how to explain this. Sometimes I'm not even sorry."

"That..." She could tell that he was feeling disturbed by that piece of information and was trying to process it with what he knew of her. "Ariadne..."

"I don't know what to do. I promised I'd try to kill them. That I would kill them. And sometimes I don't want to. What's wrong with me?"

"How long have you been there?" Yusuf asked carefully.

"Since September. They turned me on New Year's."

"Holy shit, Ariadne."

She was shaking now, holding the phone in a tight grip. "Am I a monster, Yusuf? Will you drive a stake into my chest? What's wrong with me?"

"Sh... Calm down, calm down," Yusuf said soothingly. "Look. Whatever happened, whatever's been done, I do know one thing."

"What?"

"I trust you."

Ariadne's breath caught. "What? How can you?"

"If you were really the monster you're afraid you are, you wouldn't question it. You wouldn't call me, distraught, asking if I'm going to kill you. You wouldn't offer yourself up to me like that if you were a monster, Ariadne. That you even care what I think of you is proof of that."

She let out a shaky breath. "I'm a vampire now, Yusuf. What does that mean?"

"It means it'll be harder for you to visit me," he said ruefully. "I did go to Mombassa. Work's easier for me here, and the hunters aren't quite the elitist assholes they are up there in Provence. But it's also sunny as all hell."

Ariadne laughed, a startled sound she hadn't expected to make. "How can you trust me?"

"Because I know you," he said quietly. "I can't pretend this isn't disturbing, because it is. I just... I was afraid you were dead and now I find out you are. But you're not. It's... The whole idea is unnatural, and it's against Allah's will. There's a natural order to things, and vampires upend that so it's topsy-turvy. You shouldn't live forever, you know? There has to be order, there has to be a time for all things. I do believe that."

"And that means what for me now?"

"I don't know," Yusuf admitted quietly. "I trust you, though. _I know you._ I know you will always do the right thing, even if it's the hard thing. I know you'll make the right decision, whatever it is."

"I don't know what that is yet."

"And that's probably why you're calling me," Yusuf said with a sigh. "Hunting is more of a last resort. It's what people do with their grief when they don't know fuckall else to do, you know? I just couldn't stand by and watch people kill themselves with their idiocy."

Ariadne had to laugh at the aggrieved tone he had. "I remember that," she said, a smile still on her face. "You saved a lot of lives."

"I think we all have a purpose, Ariadne. Perhaps Allah has something else in mind for you than what we all thought it was."

"I don't know what to do."

"You know what I remember about you most, Ariadne? It's from the day we first met."

"No, what do you remember?"

"I asked you what the hell you were doing with Cobb, because he was a self destructive asshole that tended to get people hurt. He was so single-minded, so focused on getting vampires killed that he never stopped to think about _why."_

Ariadne didn't remember that meeting. She had been so hammered that night, trying to get over her fear of remembering her family's deaths. "I can't remember what I said that night."

"Limits and lines... Do you remember now?"

"I still believe there are some lines I shouldn't cross."

"Yes. That's what you said," Yusuf replied, pleased he had helped her remember on her own. He never liked simply feeding people answers. They never reached their own epiphanies properly unless they figured it out for themselves. "There are lines you can't cross, lines you _won't_ cross, and ones you _shouldn't_ cross. It pissed off Cobb something fierce that night, but it was something that stuck with me. I always thought you'd leave the business eventually, once you got revenge out of your system."

"What did you think I would do with my life?"

"Move on," Yusuf said simply. "I always thought you would work out the anger, get over the grief enough to function and then live for yourself. Living in the shadows of death is a horrible, horrible burden, Ariadne. Your loved ones wouldn't want that for you."

"I don't have anything else. Death is all around me. It's all I know."

"It's not _all_ you know, Ariadne," Yusuf said gently. "That's why I've always trusted you. That's why we're friends. That's why I _know_ you'll do the right thing, whatever it is for you, and you'll make the right decisions."

She held the phone in a tight grip, almost worried she would break it. "Yusuf, I feel so lost..."

"I know. And I wish I held all the answers for you. But I do trust in you, more than any of the hunters we knew. Death wasn't your calling, Ariadne. It wasn't who you were. It was just grief at the time, and once you let yourself heal, I knew I wouldn't see you again."

Ariadne sniffled. "I wish I felt as confident as you."

"Well... I have to admit, I hope it's not misplaced. The thought of you turned kind of is a scary thing," he said slowly.

They had always been painfully honest with each other. This would have been a horrible time to change how they dealt with each other.

"How scary?" she asked quietly, painfully.

"Well, you with fangs might be cute," he mused. "But the thought of you becoming the target of one of the assholes we used to work with? You know what they'd do to you. Staking you might be just the short of it."

Ariadne shut her eyes and sighed. "I was living with two vampires for a while."

"Yeah. I gathered that by the time delay in your actual turning," he said, voice dry.

"I... I don't know if I hate them."

"It doesn't sound like you do," Yusuf pointed out gently. "I don't think you hate them at all."

"I should."

"But you don't, do you?" Yusuf asked, sharp as ever.

"I... I don't," Ariadne whispered finally. "God help me, I don't."

"Do they know?"

"I've never said anything. I haven't... I haven't wanted to think about it. I don't want to think about what I'm doing. It's easier if I'm just moving and reacting to things, or like I'm dreaming or something. It's easier if I don't think."

"That's not you," Yusuf said quietly. "Sooner or later, that stops, and then you're left with how you usually deal with things."

"Which is?"

 _"Action."_

Ariadne took in a deep breath. "It hurts to think."

"Yeah. Real life is a bitch and a half sometimes," Yusuf said with a sigh. He yawned suddenly, making Ariadne aware of the time, and that her sleep/wake cycle had been completely inverted even prior to her change.

"Yusuf. If I could make it to Mombassa..."

"You wouldn't want to be here," Yusuf told her slowly. "It wouldn't be safe for you here. If anyone knew I wasn't immediately turning you in, it might not be safe for _me_ here. They are some rabid bastards down here, too, but not complete asshats. If that makes any kind of sense at all, but there you have it." He sighed, and she could hear him scrubbing at his face tiredly. "I know you'll do the right thing. I know you're capable of making the hard choices if you have to, of figuring out what needs to be done. I trust you."

"I can't call you anymore, can I?"

"It might not be wise," he said in a solemn voice. "I'll miss you, Ariadne."

"Goodbye, Yusuf."

"Goodbye, Ariadne. May Allah bless you, whatever you decide to do."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Take care, Yusuf. Stay safe."

"Always."

Ariadne opened her mouth to say something else, anything else, just to keep the conversation going before she had to cut that last tie to her former life. Yusuf hung up, however, and Ariadne was left listening to a dead line.

She closed her eyes. She had the scent and taste of her own blood all around her, and she licked up the dried blood from the backs of her hands. Woodenly, she went to the bathroom and methodically scrubbed at her face. She looked the same in the mirror. She sounded the same on the phone. She fit all the same clothes.

It was her heart that wasn't the same. It was her head that was all twisted up.

"It would be easier if you weren't here," Ariadne told her reflection, her eyes pink. "If you were gone, everything would stop hurting so much."

She looked at the shadows playing over the planes of her face, at the dark and light patches in the dim lighting coming in from the bedroom. She hadn't turned on the light in the bathroom, and turned to do so. She moved so fast it almost looked as though she hadn't moved at all. Humans didn't move like that. They were incapable of moving so fast, of hearing the heartbeat of a dozen different people a mile away, of breaking bones on a whim.

She wasn't human anymore. She only looked like one.

"I made a promise," she told her reflection. It simply stared back at her, hollows beneath her eyes where her mascara had smudged and wasn't completely washed away. She leaned forward, nose almost pressed against the glass. "I made a promise," she repeated slowly, tasting the syllables and testing their weight in the air around her. "I made a promise, and I should keep all of my promises. My mother told me so."

The words felt like ashes in her mouth, empty syllables disappearing into air.

She snapped off the bathroom light and left the bedroom. She knew what she had to do. She had made a promise, and she would keep it.

No matter what it took.

***  
***


	13. Up In Smoke

Eames returned first, whistling a song he must have heard while he was out and about in the French countryside. He visibly brightened when he saw her wiping down the kitchen table and setting out a bouquet of wildflowers she had picked from the fields. "Oh, that's lovely," he said, bending down to lay a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"You weren't out very long," she commented, turning to look at him.

"Not much about," he replied with a shrug. "And I didn't need much anyway. Arthur looked peaky, though. He'd probably go farther for something proper to eat."

Ariadne nodded and put the dish towel aside. "Well, he left first, so he should be back soon enough, I suppose. Do you want to start setting up, then? Maybe you can pick the wine. I really never learned what goes with what."

"Just learn a few things, and then you'll always look like you know what you're about," Eames told her with a grin. "Fancy a red?"

She smiled tightly at him. "Yes. That sounds lovely."

Eames poked about the wine storage room in the basement before selecting a red wine he thought that Ariadne might like. He hadn't really noticed that some of the barrels from the room were out in the hallway or beneath the stairs, scattered in a seemingly haphazard fashion. He was half stooped over the rack as he gingerly brought the bottle out of the slot. A shadow fell over him, and half turned his head.

Before he could say a word, Ariadne hit him over the head with a metal rod, sending him crashing down to the floor. The bottle tipped out of its slot and fell onto his sprawled body, ultimately rolling across the floor and coming to a stop by her feet.

Ariadne absentmindedly picked up the bottle and headed up to the kitchen. She felt as if she was on autopilot, as if she was watching herself move. She felt absolutely nothing.

Arthur walked in as she was setting the bottle on the table beside the bouquet. There was a tightness in his expression, as if he had been afraid of what he would find. "This looks nice," he said, a touch warily. Ariadne looked up with a blank expression. "What happened?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard a noise as I was coming up the walk."

"I must have dropped something," Ariadne replied. The metal rod was in her sleeve, tucked inside the strap of her watch. It was a trick she had learned from Cobb, and it would be a simple thing to flick it out of the strap and let it fall into her palm.

"Where's Eames?"

"He went out to feed," Ariadne replied quietly. "I was going to get plates..."

"The noise I heard was down in the basement," Arthur said coolly, eyes trained on her impassive face. "What happened? Was there a hunter here?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not acting like yourself. You're... guarded. Like something happened you don't want me to know about."

"Nothing happened. It's all going to be all right."

Arthur took in her expressionless eyes and stiff posture, then headed down into the basement to see for himself. Ariadne followed him, lips pressed tight. Arthur paused at the foot of the stairs, aware that it was very dark in the basement, and he couldn't hear anything moving.

"Did hunters come for you, Ariadne?" he asked, voice gentle. He didn't want to startle her, as he could tell that something was very, very wrong.

"No. I'm fine."

She turned on the light in the basement, and he saw that the door to the wine cellar was partly open. He knew it had been shut and locked when they left France, so he headed there first. As he opened the door, he heard Ariadne lock the door to the basement. He slowly turned to face her, and thought he saw a foot out of the corner of his eye. "Ariadne, what's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing's happening."

Arthur turned and looked at the floor of the wine cellar. Eames' body was sprawled there, a gash across his temple. He turned toward Ariadne just in time to see her coming at him with a metal rod in hand, intending to hit him as well.

Ducking out of the way, he circled her, staring at the metal rod in her hand. It was a formidable weapon, as it could easily be a stake through the heart. Stakes, fire, sunlight and beheadings were the only surefire ways to kill a vampire; apparently she had decided it was time to keep her promise to try to kill them.

Whatever happened, Arthur knew he couldn't bring himself to harm her.

"Why tonight, Ariadne?" he asked quietly. "Why now?"

"Why not now?" she asked, voice dead and without inflection. They circled the open area in the basement, though Ariadne made sure that Arthur didn't get anywhere near the stairs. She kicked over the barrels of wine she had placed around the area, wine sloshing everywhere. Arthur watched her blank face and empty eyes, aware they were soaked in wine and Eames was lying face down in the wine cellar.

"Did something happen?" Arthur asked, keeping his eyes on her face. A muscle beneath her eye twitched, the only indication that she had heard what he said. "Ariadne? Did a hunter come here? Did someone try to hurt you?"

"You can't hurt what's already dead," she hissed, the mask cracking apart.

"Ariadne..."

"I was going to knock you out, too," she said, her voice rushed and edging into panic. There was a fine tremor in her hand, one that made the metal rod quiver. "That way you won't feel it. You and Eames won't feel anything, but I will. I should, for what I'm doing. I should suffer. If I'm taking everything away, I should suffer. I should pay for it. Isn't that the tradition? Isn't that the rule?" she asked, her voice getting high and quavery.

"Do you really want us dead?" Arthur asked quietly, hurt in his voice.

"You wouldn't feel it as you burned," Ariadne insisted, kicking over another barrel. Arthur flinched as more wine splashed across his legs. "I would feel it, but that's what I deserve for becoming a monster."

"You're not a monster," Arthur said carefully, reaching out for her. He could hear Eames stirring slightly in the wine cellar, and he wanted to do nothing more than rush out at Ariadne and shake the sense into her.

Ariadne took out a lighter with her left hand and lit it. "You should have let me knock you out," she whispered, eyes locked on Arthur's as she slowly knelt down to the floor. "I didn't want you to feel this. I didn't want you to hurt while I do this."

She lit the wine on the floor on fire as Eames woke up, and Arthur rushed at her as the flames shot up her legs. He knocked her to the floor, rolling her around to try to put out the flames. He wasn't even aware what he was yelling, or what she was saying either. She kept trying to shove him away, to throw herself back into the fire that was building up all around them. "I won't let you kill yourself," Arthur was yelling, shaking her. "I won't!"

She grasped the rod she had dropped as they rolled over it. She swung it around and hit him on the back of the head with it. From that angle, it wasn't enough to knock him out. Stunned, he was easily shoved aside. Ariadne threw the rod aside as she pushed herself up to her feet. She was dimly aware that there were noises inside the wine cellar, which meant that Eames was awake and alert enough to feel the fire consuming them.

This wasn't what she had planned at all.

Arthur pushed himself up to his feet as Eames came through the door to the open area of the basement. Both had their eyes on her, hurt and shock written all over their faces.

Panicked, Ariadne mounted the steps, unlocked the door and ran.

"You get her, I'll put this out," Eames said, pushing Arthur toward the stairs. He was slightly concussed, but even he could see where the fires were. Keeping it out of the wine cellar and away from other combustibles would be important for maintaining the house's integrity.

Arthur followed Ariadne out into the fields behind the house. He could see her, thrashing about through the choked vines that hadn't been cleared. It was easy enough to catch up with her, as she was flailing and panicking, bloody tears coursing down her cheeks.

Ariadne tried to run faster, but he caught up with her quickly and tackled her to the ground. He twisted her arm up behind her, his breath heavy on the back of her neck. "Don't do this," he said, fingers tight around her arm. She didn't have any weapons on her, but he couldn't be sure of that anymore. "Ariadne, don't do this."

"What are you going to do to me, Arthur?" she asked, almost cringing. Ariadne kept her eyes and lips shut tight. The hollow thing that was her chest didn't allow her enough breath to speak anyway. She deserved this, didn't she? She had tried to kill them and failed.

"I don't care if you don't even like me, Ariadne. I love you."

She let out a choked sob and pressed her face down into the dirt beneath them. "You can't."

"I do," he whispered, pressing his lips against the back of her neck. "That's why I can't lose you. I can't let you die. I just can't."

"You should kill me," Ariadne sobbed. "I almost killed you. I almost killed Eames. Isn't that how it goes? Death is the penalty? Isn't that the tradition?"

"I won't do it," he whispered, lips hovering just above her skin. "I can't."

"Kill me," Ariadne shouted, bucking beneath his weight. "Make it all go away and just kill me now. This will all be easier if I'm not here!"

With difficulty, Arthur turned her over to lie on her back. He laced his fingers through hers and pressed her hands down into the ground on either side of her head. He carefully licked the tracks of bloody tears from her face. "Suicide isn't the answer, Ariadne," he told her in a mournful tone of voice. "Lord knows I thought of that at first, but it _isn't_ the answer."

"I have nothing left," Ariadne sobbed. "Everything is _gone_ and I can't go back," she wailed. "I have nothing now! I'll just try to kill you again! Stop me, Arthur. You have to kill me to stop me."

"This isn't you," he whispered gently, leaning down so that his forehead touched hers. He watched her cry. "What happened tonight?" he asked gently. "Something happened after I left you tonight."

"I found my phone," she admitted, not sure why she was telling him the truth. Did it even matter anymore, though? "I called my friend and he can't ever see me again. I have _nothing_ now, nothing but pain, and _I don't want it."_

"Would killing us have helped with that?" he asked quietly. He didn't sound angry at all.

Ariadne tried to throw him off, but he was larger and better positioned. She let out a desperate wail. "I made a promise! And it's your fault I feel this way. You should've killed me when you killed Cobb."

"How do you feel, Ariadne? Why is it so awful?" he asked, infinitely patient.

She let out an inarticulate howl. "I didn't want this, I didn't. I _didn't."_

"I know. And you didn't want us to feel pain either," he murmured. He could hear Eames coming closer, so the house had to be safe. Somehow, he didn't care about that very much. The house could be replaced, or they could simply find another place to live. It felt as if that was finally sinking in, and he hadn't realized that for years. "You love us as much as we love you, don't you, Ariadne? Is that why it hurts more?"

She only sobbed, twisting beneath his hands. "I should hate you. I should hate you both."

"Maybe," Arthur conceded. He let go of her wrists and stroked her cheek gently. "I know you. I know how this feels. I know what you're going through now."

"No, you don't," she said miserably, looking up at him with bloody eyes. "You don't."

Arthur backed off of her and knelt beside her. She could run if she wanted to. "I killed my sire within a year of my birth. So yes, I know what you're feeling now."

Startled, Ariadne sniffled and wiped at her face. "What?"

"I hated him," Arthur said simply, expression bleak and eyes flat with remembered pain. "I haven't... I never told anyone about it before. At first because it was safer that way, but then later... It was just one more thing I didn't want to remember. One more thing that hurt, one more thing to try to run from."

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Ariadne stared at Arthur with a mournful expression. "What happened?"

He took in her vulnerable expression, the way she was hoping that she could understand what to do with the rest of eternity if he simply explained it away for her.

For a moment, he wished he had someone to explain things to him all those years ago.

"I was born in a small barony in Avignon," he began slowly. He heard Eames settle down a few feet away to listen; he didn't want to intrude and upset the tenuous balance between Arthur and Ariadne. "I was the oldest, so I'd be baron someday. My father had some business ventures, so even though there wasn't much money from the rents, we had plenty." Arthur looked up at Ariadne's face. "I thought vampires were stories back then, too. Just something to scare children into behaving, to keep them from straying too far into the woods. I had the best education, and I thought all those things were beneath me."

"What happened?" Ariadne whispered when Arthur trailed off.

"Jean-François. He heard of my father's business ventures and wanted a cut. My father said no, so he kidnapped me during my birthday festivities." Arthur looked down at the ground as Ariadne gasped. He looked up after a moment. "I spent my birthday in unbearable agony. He did nothing to spare me from it, and did everything he could to make it more painful. He taunted my father with it, made sure to tell him every depraved thing he did to me."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not sure what else to say.

"He didn't give a shit about me and I hated him as much as I was dependent on him. He made sure of that." Arthur shifted position so that he mirrored Ariadne, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms crossed over them. "It took seven months for him to let his guard down and start telling me things I'd need to know to survive. And then one night after he raped me and went to sleep, I bled him dry and threw him into the fire. I watched him burn." He looked at Ariadne with a drawn expression. "I found my family on Christmas Eve. I thought they were going to kill me for what was done, but my mother wouldn't hear of it. I promised I'd never hurt them. I promised I would keep them safe, that I would look after them as best as I could."

Ariadne scooted closer to him and put her hand on his arm tentatively when he fell silent. "What happened next?"

"The French Revolution happened."

She flinched at the dead note in his voice. She had spent six years in Grenoble, and it was practically the birthplace of the Revolution. Avignon wasn't that far away.

"They were taken as I slept beneath the floorboards. The servants that were loyal, everyone that knew about me, they were killed. My parents were beheaded in the square, and they killed my brothers and sisters. Emilie was only four."

Ariadne leaned against him, and didn't even look up when Eames settled on the other side of Arthur, putting his arm around them both. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," Arthur murmured. "There was nothing left when they were done. They tore it all down and burned it to the ground, leaving only bodies behind."

"You survived," Ariadne commented.

"For a long time, I wished I hadn't. I thought it would be easier if I died, if I walked into the sun or just admitted what I did to Jean-François. I figured someone would kill me for it."

"I'm glad you didn't, darling," Eames murmured, pressing a kiss to Arthur's cheek.

"What changed?" Ariadne asked quietly.

"No one else knew them."

"What do you mean?" Ariadne asked, frowning.

"I realized I had to stay alive to protect their memory, or else they never would have existed." His voice was soft, mournful. "But it hurts, so most of the time, I avoid it. Sometimes I can't help but remember them, though. I'm the only one that would. If I die, so do they."

"My friend Yusuf told me tonight that living in the shadows of death is a terrible burden."

Arthur gave a sharp bark of bitter laughter. "Maybe. But sometimes it's all you know, and that's all there is to keep you going."

"It's not enough," Ariadne murmured, looking at him with clear eyes.

"No, it's not."

"Did you think Eames would make you whole? Or me?"

He gave her a sad smile. "I know better than that, Ariadne."

"Then what's enough? What keeps you going on?"

"In winter, it's knowing I'm the only one that remembers. But most of the time... Most of the time I keep hoping it's going to get better. That one day I'll figure out how to take the pain away."

"I don't think grief works that way," Eames commented gently. "It's dulled, but that doesn't mean it's completely gone."

"Yeah. I've kind of noticed that," Arthur remarked wryly.

"So where does this leave us now?" Ariadne asked quietly.

"Same place we were in before," Arthur replied, shrugging.

"Did you really think things were going to be different?" Eames asked, frowning.

"I tried to kill you," Ariadne answered, her voice fracturing. "I don't know if I'll do it again."

"You promised us before," Eames said, moving to kneel in front of her. He covered her mouth with his hands when she opened it to reply. "No. Don't say anything. You made a promise, you kept it. Don't promise us you won't try again if you can't. It'll tear you up if you want to at some point but you promised you wouldn't."

Ariadne pulled his hand away from her mouth and took in the soot on his clothing and the smell of smoke and wine all around him. "How can you stand to even look at me for what I've done? Why do you forgive me?"

"Because I trust you, love."

Arthur slid his arm around her waist and pressed his lips against her neck. "We know who you are by now, Ariadne. Death isn't the answer for you. Your friend was right about that."

"So what now?" she asked, looking at the both of them tremulously.

Eames got to his feet and extended a hand to both Ariadne and Arthur. "So now you live."

Arthur got up easily and helped Ariadne to her feet. She was afraid to think it was that easy, that everything could be easily swept aside. As he crushed her to his chest in a desperate hug, however, she knew it couldn't be. What had happened would always hang between them, even if they could forgive her. She had to forgive herself, and she had to figure out how to move on with her life.

If only she could figure out how.

***  
***


	14. Finding The Future

Ariadne stepped back from the painting on the easel and looked at it with a critical eye. She thought these were utter crap, but she seemed to be doing a better job of painting the vineyard grounds. It was only her fifteenth attempt at this particular view, anyway.

The barn had been completely renovated before the end of spring, and over the summer she used the loft area as a painting studio. It was her private little place, and Eames and Arthur both respected her occasional need to be alone. Eames had convinced Arthur to try to make a go of the vineyard, and they had hired on some of Miles' distant human descendants. They worked the fields during the daytime and Arthur bought a new wine press that was set up in the back field. He remembered some of the old ways of doing this, but was avidly poring over books and journals detailing current winery techniques and standards.

He had noticed when July arrived, and had kept his promise to stay in the house on Bastille Day this year. Ariadne found him in the attic that night, going through the belongings left by the house's original owners. "It was a long war," Ariadne had said, sitting down next to him as he looked through pictures from World War II. She wasn't even sure if she was referring to that or to the French Revolution.

Arthur looked at her with a smile. "Most are when you live through them. I definitely didn't want to be in Europe at the time."

"How'd you know you wanted to be with Eames?" Ariadne asked, curious.

He laughed. "More like the other way around at first. _He_ glommed onto me and wouldn't let go, the stubborn bastard. He kept insisting every time we met that he'd be fun."

"And eighty-seven years ago you just decided to go with it?"

"It was something that just happened. I was _drunk._ I'm not talking about a glass of wine or two. I mean, I drank an entire bottle of whiskey, two bottles of wine, maybe half a bottle of scotch and I was attacking a bottle of cognac with extreme prejudice." Ariadne laughed with him at the choice of words. "As you can probably guess, it was during the winter."

"You seem to have a theme, yes."

He poked her in the arm playfully. "I'm baring my soul to you, here. You can afford to be a little more gracious," he teased.

"You're the one hiding in the attic."

"Point," Arthur allowed with a self-deprecating smile. It grew a little wider when Ariadne bumped his shoulder playfully with hers. "I was kind of a mess at the time. He brought me home and made sure I didn't kill myself by accident. It's never really been a conscious effort on my part, if that makes sense. I never thought since then that it was going to be a forever kind of thing. I figured, it would last as long as it worked."

"And eighty-seven years later..." Ariadne began.

"We're still here, still together. Funny how things work out."

She took in the gentle smile on his face at the thought of Eames. "You love him a lot," she commented slowly. "He means so much to you."

Arthur nodded. "Trying to figure out if this is a forever kind of thing for you?"

"Maybe."

He laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "If you have any plans about Eames, just forget about it. They never seem to work out well with him."

"He got the loft ready for me."

"Mostly because he hired a team Vittorine recommended. It wasn't as if he did the work himself." Arthur leaned into her and pressed his lips to her temple. "But anyway, the point I was trying to make is that you can't plan for forever. It just happens if it works."

"I don't like coasting through."

"It's not always a bad thing."

She turned to him and their mouths met in a soft, gentle kiss. "You didn't run this year."

"I promised I wouldn't."

"Why couldn't he make you promise in other years?"

"He never tried. Maybe if he did, I would have stayed."

"He calls you a morose bastard."

"He calls me a lot of things," Arthur replied with a grin. "I call him a lot of things back."

"I'm thinking of painting," Ariadne said slowly. "I mean, I always used to like art history and I used to sketch all over my notes."

"Need a model? I'll pose nude," Arthur added with a playful leer.

Ariadne gave him a shove, smiling ruefully at him. "I expected that from Eames."

"Did you tell him?"

"Yeah. He actually offered to find an art supply store for me."

Arthur pulled her into his lap, and she settled into his arms comfortably. "I know what you're doing, you know. I know you're distracting me."

"Is it working?"

He smiled. "Yeah, actually it is. I didn't think it would. I've been hiding from this for so long, I guess I just got used to it. I got used to being an asshole about stuff like that."

"Miles said there's a place for all of us. That we each have a purpose."

"Have you found yours yet?"

"Sometimes I think I have. I'm the only one that remembers my family, like you said. And... I was coasting through before. I had already given up on knowing what I wanted out of life. I was just existing, but I wasn't living." She smiled gently, remembering the night she had called Miles and Vittorine to the vineyard to talk, as she tried to figure out what the hell she was doing with her life. It had scared Arthur half to death, as he had been concerned that Ariadne was going to ask Miles to kill her.

"So... Painting. Very bohemian of you."

Ariadne grasped his cheeks, making his lips pucker slightly. "Don't make fun of me," she told him in a mockingly stern voice.

"I wouldn't say it's making fun of you... I can see you in flowing skirts and scarves and those sheer blouses you can see through." He laughed when she playfully smacked him, and they fell over the box he had been sitting on.

They tumbled to the floor, laughing with each other, and the noise drew Eames' attention. He came up the stairs into the attic and took in the sight of the two of them laughing together. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

Ariadne grinned at his playfully lost expression. "Yeah, but we'll catch you up to speed."

Ariadne shook herself out of the memory. Since July, she had tried painting. Eames had been excited to go shopping for art supplies with her, and Arthur had gone ahead with getting more supplies for their hobby vineyard. He was thinking of perhaps selling wines to the local towns eventually, and was trying to come up with ideas for wine names. She had suggested naming it after the barony that had been destroyed, which had made both Eames and Arthur turn quiet. She suspected that it had come as a surprise, but she thought it made sense. That was where things had begun for Arthur, and their current house reminded him of the home and family he had lost.

Ariadne checked that the paint was dry on her current painting. It was the fifteenth try, and perhaps painting wasn't her thing after all. Maybe she could concentrate on her sketching rather than using oil paints. She liked that, and liked going through her old art history books. She was thinking of reading up on architecture next, since it was somewhat related to art and had nothing to do with paints in and of itself. Then again, there were other things she could do that were artistic and didn't involve paints either.

She had the luxury of time and money, which was as freeing as it was sometimes terrifying.

Well, it was time to show the guys what she had been working on. She unhooked the painting from her easel and headed into the house, where Arthur and Eames were talking with the winery foreman and trying to strategize how they would market the crop. Eames brightened as soon as he saw her in the doorway and pulled her into the room for a kiss. "Ah, poppet," he murmured, then moved to pull her into his lap as he sat down. "What's this?"

"My best attempt at painting the fields. I had to extrapolate what the colors in daytime would be based on the photo Guillaume took for me."

Guillaume smiled at her and then looked over the painting. "I think it turned out well, Miss Ariadne," he said. He was always very formal with her, even if she had told him he could drop the Miss in his address to her.

Arthur had a soft smile on his face as looked at the paining. "Very expressionist, I think."

"He likes using big words to show off his learnings," Eames told Ariadne in a stage whisper. He laughed when Arthur shot him a pained look. "Oh, you know you love it, darling."

"Shut it, Eames," Arthur replied dismissively. He took the painting from Ariadne and propped it up over the mantel and stepped back to look at it. "This reminds me of my father's house," he said quietly, head turned slightly to the side. "That's what it looked like that last summer."

Ariadne sat up a bit straighter in Eames' lap. He ran his fingers along her waist in a comforting kind of gesture. "Is that bad?"

Arthur turned around, shaking his head. "It's perfect. Let's use this for the wine bottle labels."

Ariadne blinked. "What? You think it's that good?"

"It would fit," Guillaume agreed slowly, nodding. "You know many brands have scenic photos or grape symbols. This is good. Those are the very fields the grapes grow on, but it would also have personal meaning for all of you."

"Oh. I thought I didn't do a very good job copying the photo."

Eames snickered. "Who ever thinks they do a very good job on what they work on, love?" He nuzzled her neck. "Besides. It's art. It's pretty if everyone else thinks so."

Guillaume laughed. "Well, it's a moot point until we have bottles ready for distribution. I'll head home for the evening and let you all get settled in for the night."

Arthur showed him out, and Eames slid his hand underneath Ariadne's blouse. "I think it was pretty," he murmured, lips on her neck. "But I wouldn't call myself an art critic."

Ariadne shivered as he ran his fangs across her skin. "You're not just saying that?"

"If you don't like it, you don't like it. You do know that there are people out there that think paint spatters are a good idea? Modern art, I don't get at all. I like art that actually looks like something and makes me feel something."

She gave a soft gasp as his fangs broke the skin and he sucked on the blood that came to the surface. Her eyes slid shut and she leaned into his touch.

"I'd say get a room, but this is one," Arthur said in a droll voice upon his return.

Eames laughed and looked up. "Jealous, darling?"

"No," Arthur replied, sliding in next to them.

"Liar," Eames scoffed, watching him offer Ariadne his wrist. He stroked her torso gently as she delicately drank from Arthur. He licked Ariadne's earlobe. "I was telling Ari that I'm not an art critic. I like art that looks like something."

"I was thinking of trying other things, too. I don't know if paints are really my thing. It's okay, I guess. I kinda liked it. But it feels like I'm forcing it, like I'm trying too hard."

Arthur laughed and stroked her face. "So we'll try something else until you find something you like. It's rather like with the classics. I never did like Catullus."

"He's showing off again."

"I was being _specific,_ Eames."

Ariadne laughed as they bickered playfully, and shifted in Eames' lap so that her legs fell across Arthur's lap. Arthur ran his hands along her legs gently, smiling at her as she settled into their embrace. "Still think we have to have some lofty purpose in life?" he asked her quietly.

"Yes. Sort of. This is still a purpose, you know. This is still something to do."

"I can show you something to do," Eames remarked, nipping at her ear playfully.

"You are such a lech," Ariadne said with a laugh, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Are you complaining?" he asked with a laugh. "That wasn't a complaint last night."

Her breath hitched as Eames' lips ran along her neck and Arthur's hands slid further up her leg. "It's not a complaint now, either. It's merely an observation."

"You're very observant," Arthur murmured, watching her reaction as his hand slid higher along her thigh. "I like that."

If forever was going to be like this, Ariadne didn't have any complaints at all.

 

The End


End file.
